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Be Mine

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“But we’re not dating,” Keith said flatly.

“Obviously. But this is a Valentine’s Day couple's special,” Lance said, “Do you have any idea the sheer amount of food that’ll be offered? I can’t miss it.”

Keith felt his throat tighten, and he forced out, “Not everyone enjoys stuffing their face, Lance.” He meant it to sound maybe a little mocking, but there was a quiver in his voice. If Lance noticed, he didn’t act like it.

“Okay, so you’re not in it for quantity, what about quality? You know this place is supposed to be incredible. Surely not even you could resist.”

Keith was well aware that Le Canard et La Chèvre was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the area. He knew because, before his most recent attempt at romance had failed several weeks ago, he had tried to take his (now ex) boyfriend Lotor there, only to be told there was a waiting list of nearly five months.

“How’d you even get reservations?” Keith asked.

“I’ve got my sources,” Lance said playfully, stretching his hands over his head. The movement made his shirt ride up his little potbelly, revealing a tiny sliver of tanned stomach. Keith tore his eyes away, but felt his cheeks turn pink.

Lance insouciantly brought his arms back down and righted his shirt, and took a sip of his coffee. They were at a local cafe, with the intention of working on some homework, but so far Keith just stared as Lance devoured three blueberry muffins. Lance seemed to be waiting for Keith to say something, but Keith just stared at him, attempting to look uninterested. Lance sighed.

“Alright, so I made reservations over six months ago, okay? There was a groupon! A buffet at fucking Le Canard et La Chèvre, dude! C’mon, it said couples only! I need a second! I’d ask Hunk, but he has to work.”

“Glad to know I’m your first choice,” Keith said, only with a mild sneer. In truth, Keith would’ve loved to go with Lance and watch him stuff his face. With only a week left until Valentine’s Day, Keith highly doubted he’d find other plans. Not only would he avoid dwelling on being alone on Valentine’s Day, but he’d get to partake in one of his favorite pastimes: watching Lance eat.

Keith vividly remembered the first couple times he saw Lance stuff his face. He had been genuinely amazed at his capacity for someone so small. Only as time went on, Keith saw that maybe Lance wasn’t simply blessed with an impressive metabolism. As Keith found out, Lance had been very active in swim team through high school, giving him a tight and lean swimmer’s physique. He had decided not to pursue the sport in college.

Keith asked him why once, and Lance had shrugged and said, “It’s not that I didn’t like it, I’d just rather spend more time focusing on schoolwork. It was a big time commitment. Maybe I’ll find some new interests and hobbies.”

His new interests and hobbies, so far as Keith could tell, were almost exclusively eating. It seemed like he could snack endlessly, yet still put away far more than his fair share at actual meals. It was starting to show.

He had a soft little paunch now, one that happily pressed against his shirts. It was just small enough that Lance could still wear his old shirts with sufficient comfort, but Keith suspected that those days were numbered, given how Lance didn’t show any signs of slowing down. When Lance had stretched his arms up, Keith could tell that his jeans absolutely cinched his soft waist, making his soft little tummy look rounder than it was. Keith was honestly a little shocked he could still stuff himself into them. He must’ve put on every single bit of the freshman fifteen, probably more, and it was only February. If Keith had to guess, he’d put it at twenty pounds. Maybe as much as twenty-five. Not that he’s given it much thought, or anything.

It would’ve been harder to tell if Lance had been more muscular instead of just very lean, so instead, the softness creeping on his waist was clear as day, displaying all of Lance’s recent indulgences. He was starting to look a little soft around the jaw, too. He’d had a very thin and angular face, and now Keith noticed that his cheeks looked a little rounder, and his jaw was a little less narrow.

“Um, hello? Are you listening to me? Earth to Keith!” Lance said, snapping his fingers at Keith obnoxiously.

“Quit it,” Keith growled.

“So do you wanna come or not? It’s fine if you don’t, if you’d really hate a fancy dinner with me that much, I can ask someone else,” Lance said, averting his eyes to his phone, acting like he was texting someone. Keith wasn’t fooled, and he knew he didn’t imagine the flicker of hurt he saw in Lance’s expression before he looked away. Keith felt his chest tighten. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his feelings or make it seem like he didn’t want to hang out with him.

The problem was, Keith liked Lance a lot. Which was only a problem because Keith had convinced himself that Lance was uninterested, not to mention out of his league. The first time he saw Lance, Keith immediately developed a crush the size of the galaxy on him. With his easy and charming smiles, his soft looking hair, his friendly and disarming laugh that carried through a room and made everyone want to laugh along; he was everything Keith wasn’t. The only thing they’d had in common was their build, and now Keith couldn’t even say that much.

He was somewhat grateful for the way their relationship had taken root; playful antagonizing was something Keith could work with. He could pretend he wasn’t hopelessly smitten. He could hide the dopy grins that always threatened to emerge with a half-hearted scowl instead.

It was made simultaneously better and worse when he found out Lance was bi. Because on one hand, that meant he had a chance, but on the other hand, oh god he had a chance.

There’s a possibility he would’ve asked Lance out (despite feeling admittedly a little inferior in comparison to the way Lance lit up a room), but to be honest, it was hard to get a read on what the other man was feeling. Grateful as he usually was for it, that was the downside of their vexing relationship. They’d bicker endlessly about nothing in particular, and when someone (usually Hunk) had enough, he’d say something along the lines of, “Just fuck already!” to which both Lance and Keith would give a derisive snort. At this point, Keith was sure that if he tried to ask Lance out, he’d just think Keith was joking.

But now, with every extra pound Lance happily packed on to his frame, it was getting harder and harder for Keith to just stand by and act like he didn’t have feelings for Lance. It was becoming absolute torture.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course I’ll go with you,” Keith said with a roll of his eyes.

Lance’s whole face lit up and Keith felt like he could fly from that look alone. God, he was hopeless.

“Pick me up at six, babe,” Lance said, milking Keith’s obvious discomfort for all it was worth.

“We live in the same building,” Keith sneered, “I’ll come by your room and then we can walk to the parking lot togeth-”

“That’s not very romantic, making me walk all that way on the night of our Valentine’s dinner,” Lance pouted, batting his long lashes.

“You want me to drive my car up to the front of our building to pick you up?” Keith said tightly.

“It’s cold,” Lance said simply.

Keith had a scathing remark on the tip of his tongue, something about Lance being superbly lazy, but what came out of his mouth was an acquiescence, “I’ll pick you up at six.”


Keith pulled up to their dorms and sent Lance a sarcastic text stating that his taxi had arrived. He glared at the box of chocolates that were on the passenger seat, which he had purchased for Lance. It was meant to be a joke. For someone who had practically begged Keith to join him, Lance seemed to be taking great pleasure in teasing Keith during the past week about their date, and this was meant to be a joke of the same ilk. But it wouldn’t be funny because Lance wouldn’t get angry, or flustered, or annoyed, because unlike Keith, Lance seemed perfectly unperturbed pretending that Keith was his date. Keith was very perturbed by it. Keith could hardly think straight because of it.

Keith had pulled out all the stops too, which he was now truly regretting.

It was a huge, obnoxiously pink heart-shaped box, with three tiered levels of assorted chocolates. It was so large, that Keith figured it was maybe meant for Valentine’s Day parties rather than for just one person.

Perched on top of the box was a little stuffed bear with big brown eyes, clutching a heart that read, ‘Be Mine!’

Keith stared at it. Somehow, it felt like a very real declaration of his feelings, even though he knew Lance wouldn’t take it that way. He was very, very tempted to throw it in the back seat before Lance made his way out to Keith’s car. In fact, he had decided that’s absolutely what he’ll do, and had his arm outstretched towards the bear to toss it back, when the passenger door popped open.

Lance paused for a moment, obviously surprised at the display in front of him, before looking back up at Keith with a big smile.

“Hey, thanks babe! You shouldn’t have~”

Keith snorted at him, but it sounded forced even to his ears. He snuck a glance Lance’s way as he got buckled. Keith was sure that gentle pink tinge to Lance’s cheeks was from the cold.

Lance happily took off the plastic encasing the chocolates and popped a few into his mouth as Keith began driving.

“Mm, these are good,” he said blissfully.

“You’re seriously gonna eat those now? As we’re going to a buffet?”

“I’m hungry,” Lance whined with his mouth full, and wow was that doing things to Keith.

“Besides,” Lance continued, “You know full well I’m bottomless. This won’t spoil my appetite,” he said with a pat to his stomach that was well hidden behind his winter coat.

When they got to the restaurant, Lance had already eaten seven chocolates. Not that Keith was counting. They walked in and immediately the wait staff offered to take their coats.

Keith looked sharp as hell, and he knew it. He wore a pair of very dark navy dress pants that emphasized the narrowness of his waist, with the matching jacket. Admittedly, it was from his high school graduation. His button up underneath was a red-maroon color. Aside from him not owning a large variety of fancy clothes, he knew this particular shirt made his shoulders look especially broad. He steeled himself to look over at Lance.

God help me, Keith thought as he took in the sight before him. Lance was in a matching set as well, his pants and jacket a dark heathered gray. He wore a simple white button up underneath, and a dark blue tie.

But everything was tight.

His jacket wasn’t buttoned, so Keith could see the strain on the buttons lower on Lance’s torso. It looked like he had enough foresight to wear an undershirt, because if he hadn’t, Keith was fairly sure he would’ve been able to see a peek of flesh between the lowest two buttons. That shirt must’ve been hard to tuck in, because the waistband on his pants looked seriously taxed. Keith would’ve killed to get his hands in there and just feel how tight it was. Lance had to fasten them below his belly, and his pants forced every bit of that tummy up and over his waistband. Keith was dying to see him without that jacket on, to see his chubby little love handles.

Keith finally looked up to see that Lance, too, had been staring at him, looking flushed. Keith arched an eyebrow, and Lance seemed like a deer in headlights.

“It’s-wow, I just, you- um, you clean up well,” Lance got out.

Keith, feeling bold for finally having their roles reversed and not being the one to blunder over the mere sight of Lance, moved closer to Lance and put a tender hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, babe,” Keith said, unable to keep a cocky grin from his face.

That seemed to snap Lance out of it and he snorted at Keith, and they were shown to their table. Lance ordered a soda and Keith got water. And then Lance flew from the table like a bat out of hell and began loading up.

Keith himself had started with a modest helping of a cranberry brie salad and a bowl of whatever the hell bouillabaisse was, but it looked like some sort of seafood stew and smelled incredible. He felt a little silly once he finished quickly and stood waiting for Lance, but the man was practically putting on a show.

He was earning a handful of disgruntled looks from the patrons around him, who probably didn’t appreciate him filling half his plate just with potatoes au gratin. The remaining space on his plate was filled up with equal amounts of lamb chops and coq au vin. He looked stricken for a moment once his plate was full. He looked up and scanned until his eyes landed on Keith. Lance hurried over and handed his plate to him.

“Here, hold this, I’m gonna fill up another plate.”

Keith sputtered as Lance handed Keith his plate, forcing Keith to hold his own meager salad and soup somewhat awkwardly in the same hand.

“You do realize we can stay as long as we want, right?” Keith protested, but Lance was already walking back to the food.

Lance’s next plate was filled with beef bourguignon, duck confit, a generous helping of aligot (good god, what was some of this stuff? It all looked great, but would it have killed them to have some sort of translation?), and any remaining space was filled with various sausages. Keith felt faint.

Lance made his way back to Keith, took his first plate back, and they headed back to the table. Lance wasted no time digging in.

Keith’s own food was excellent, but he still had a hard time tearing his eyes away from Lance, who was inhaling food at a truly spectacular rate.

“Don’t hurt yourself, dude,” Keith said as Lance shoveled in a piece of sausage coated in aligot (which, as it turns out, is basically just a cheese and cream sauce).

Lance shook his head and popped in another bite, before he had even swallowed the first.

“If you eat fast, you can eat more. You can kinda trick yourself into thinking you’re less full than you really are. This is sage advice, dude. I plan on getting my money’s worth.”

So he continued, and Keith was so distracted by Lance that they ended up finishing their food at the same time.

Lance took a deep breath and put his fork down. He palmed at his stomach, which was already looking a bit swollen.

“You done?” Keith joked, knowing there was no way that was the case.

Predictably, Lance said, “Ha! Not a chance.”

They went up again, Keith taking small portions of a handful of dishes to make up the rest of his dinner. He’d never had a particularly large appetite, and he was sure he had taken enough to satisfy himself.

Lance seemed content to go with one plate this time, picking up a couple of the things he really enjoyed from the first round, notably more potatoes and aligot, and a handful of new dishes.

Keith watch as he loaded up again, painfully noticing that Lance really was starting to look...swollen. They had both taken their jackets off, so Keith finally had a good look of just how sinfully tight his pants were. Keith wondered how much of a struggle they were to button, because they were slung just about as low on his hips as possible while still looking somewhat decent. There was obviously no chance in hell at buttoning them at his natural waist. His bloated stomach was protruding over his waistband, pressing insistently against the buttons of his shirt. It wasn’t just the bottom two that were gaping anymore; just about every button below his ribcage was puckered, showing Lance’s white undershirt. His plump love handles, too, were perched over the tight waistband, looking so soft and Keith would’ve given anything to give them a good squeeze.

Lance made his way back to Keith with his plate absolutely filled to the brim once more, and enthusiastically began to tuck that away, too.

They ate in relative silence, Keith too enthralled from watching Lance eat and Lance too distracted from eating as quickly as possible to notice Keith’s gaze. Lance had ordered another soda at some point.

Lance had begun to slow down towards the end of his third plate, and some casual conversation began again at the table. Keith was thankful for an opportunity to clear his head. He was also thankful that their table was high enough that, while seated, he couldn’t see Lance’s burgeoning waist.

Despite slowing down, Lance kept steadily eating until the plate was empty. He leaned back with a sigh and burped quietly into his cloth napkin. One hand reached down, likely to fiddle with his waistband.

Unable to resist goading him, Keith said, “Surely you’re not done?”

Lance made a face at him. “I just need a minute,” he said.

Keith’s feet acted on their own accord as he stood and said, “Well, why don’t I let you sit for a minute and just make your next plate for you?”

Lance flushed a really nice red color and said, “Uh, y-yeah, that sounds good.”

Keith devilishly loaded Lance’s plate even more than his last one. He walked past the lamb chops and thought about how hot Lance looked sucking on the bones, so he put one on the plate. He remembered how sexy Lance looked wiping the grease from his mouth after the duck confit, so he put some of that on the plate. He saw kebabs and imagined Lance plucking each hunk of meat off the stick with his teeth, so he put one on the plate.

Keith realized he was filling Lance’s plate in accordance with what he wanted to see him eat, but he also quickly realized that there wasn’t a single thing at this damn buffet that he didn’t want to see Lance eat.

When Keith returned to the table and Lance saw the plate, his eyes bulged.

“Jesus, dude! I don’t think I can finish that,” Lance objected, but he stared at the plate longingly.

“I thought you wanted to get your money’s worth?”

Lance began slowly making his way through. Keith tried to keep some semblance of a conversation going, if nothing else just to distract himself. Lance was starting to pant, he sounded like he had just gone for a jog instead of sitting at a table for an hour and a half stuffing his face with everything he could get his hands on. It was an absolute spectacle.

Keith felt a twinge of guilt; he really didn’t have to pile Lance’s plate that high, but Lance seemed to embrace the challenge. It was truly remarkable, watching him put away that amount of food. Keith wanted to rub his belly and just feel how stuffed it was.

Lance made his way through about three quarters of the plate before he dropped his fork with a groan.

“I don’t think I can, fuck,” Lance said, taking deep breaths.

Keith nodded, “Maybe it’s for the best. After all, you want room for dessert, right?”

Lance gasped audibly, looking stricken, “I had forgotten about dessert! How could I just forget about dessert?!”

Keith rolled his eyes and gestured to his soda, “Drink more of that, maybe the carbonation will help.”

Lance did, and they sat casually for a bit, maybe even as long as half an hour. Keith tried to ignore the way Lance was fiddling with his buttons and waistband. He must’ve felt extremely uncomfortable, stuffed into those clothes. Lance burped quietly into his napkin again. He had finished his second soda and was looking a little pink.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Lance said, gingerly rising from the table. Keith followed him.

The dessert section of the buffet was expansive. The plates, however, were much smaller than the plates for the entree section of the buffet. Lance made a face, gingerly maneuvered himself back to the entree buffet to take one of the larger plates, brought it back to the desserts, and began to fill it up. Keith was practically vibrating just watching Lance move.

There were éclairs, mousses, soufflés, tarts, mini ramekins of crème brûlée, and quite a few other different kinds of pastries with increasingly challenging names. True to form, Lance filled his plate until he literally could not stack any more on to it. Keith himself had taken one of the petite serving plates intended for dessert and gotten a couple of colorful macarons.

They sat back down, and Lance took a moment to steel himself before digging in. After all that, after nearly four whole plates precariously stacked with food, Lance still came extraordinarily close to finishing his plate. About half a caramel crêpe and a chocolate éclair remained.

Keith felt like he was in a trance. He was grateful that they were seated on opposite sides of the table because, fuck, Keith didn’t think he’d be able to keep his hands to himself if Lance was next to him right now. He tried to focus on his own couple of macarons (they really were quite good) but he found he didn’t have much appetite for them.

Lance burped into his napkin again. He was definitely flushed, maybe from embarrassment, maybe from food, or a combination of both. Either way, he looked absolutely beautiful.

To Keith’s shock and delight, he picked his fork back up. And somehow, some way, he finished his fucking plate.

Keith couldn’t believe his eyes. This was so beyond anything he had ever seen Lance consume. Lance had a big appetite on a good day and was absolutely ravenous on a great one, but this had surpassed anything Keith had seen him do. By far.

Lance’s eyes were shut, his mouth downturned in a grimace of pain. Lance had both his hands below the table, and Keith was fairly sure they were both working overtime trying to rub his surely aching gut.

Lance leaned back, arched his back and pushed out his stomach with a sigh. But suddenly, his eyes shot open and he straightened back up, clearing his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

Keith was going to ask him what was wrong, after he investigated whatever just tapped his knee under the table. He peered at the ground under the table, and saw a little white button on the ground next to Keith’s black shoes. His eyebrows knit in confusion before he understood all at once.

Lance had popped a button. Holy shit, Lance had popped a fucking button.

When Keith looked back up at Lance, he was red. He was obviously waiting for Keith to sneer and maybe make fun of him. Keith was rendered completely incapable of doing so.

Instead, he, too, cleared his throat and quietly said, “Let me know whenever you’re ready to leave, take your time.”

Lance was still violently flushed, and he wordlessly nodded. He grabbed his suit jacket that was on the back of his chair and put it on while he was still seated. He went to button the front, but the lapels didn’t meet. Keith suspected they hadn’t met even before Lance ate all that, as there was about three inches of space between the button and the hole.

Nearly choking on his own tongue, Keith stood and said, “Why don’t I go get our coats from the coat check? I’ll bring you yours.” Lance looked immensely grateful, and Keith scurried away, feeling ashamed.

When Keith returned with Lance’s coat, Lance quickly put it on and then stood up carefully. He was still moving awkwardly from being impossibly full, but he seemed to find his confidence again now that his missing button was concealed. He was smiling happily, looking immensely pleased with the food he had put away, raving to Keith about all the dishes as the left the restaurant. He was walking slowly, making uncomfortable faces and even hissing in pain occasionally.

“Careful, dude,” Keith said and, on instinct, rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder to steady him. Lance hummed, but didn’t say anything as he walked a little closer to Keith. Keith didn’t lift his hand until they made it to the car.

It was slow going, too. Lance was panting and moving slowly, and Keith figured maybe he should’ve offered to pull the car around instead of making Lance walk the distance to his car. But Lance didn’t complain.

Lance flopped into Keith’s car, and noticed his chocolates and the bear from earlier. By the time Keith walked around to the other side of the car and got in the driver’s seat, Lance had opened the chocolates up again and was chewing one. Keith gaped at him.

“You cannot be serious,” he said.

Lance swallowed the one that was in his mouth with a groan. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted. He looked at the box, took one more out and then closed it and placed it at his feet. He popped the chocolate in his mouth.

“You’re...unreal,” Keith said in awe. Lance just hummed again.

They got back to campus and Keith had learned from his mistake, opting to drive up to their dorms and drop Lance off rather than make him walk from the parking lot.

Lance unbuckled and looked up at Keith. “Thanks for coming with me. I know this wasn’t your ideal evening.”

You have no fucking idea, Keith thought, and said, “I had a great time. You’re good company,” Keith genuinely, and an awkward silence followed Keith’s sincerity. They didn’t talk like that often. Lance had his hand on the door handle, but something was stopping him.

“You never told me quit it,” Lance finally said quietly, looking at the ground.


“You never told me to quit it, or to cut it out,” Lance said hesitantly looking up at Keith. “This whole week I’ve been teasing you, calling you babe and saying we had a date and shit. Whenever I bust your balls about something you always tell me to ‘quit it’ or ‘cut it out’,” Lance said, imitating the way Keith speaks.

“But,” he continued, “You never did. Not once. So I just-” Lance paused, and sighed. “Tell me you if don’t feel the same, and then this conversation never happened. I won’t make it weird, I promise, we can just forget about it. I just- I need to know.”

Keith looked at Lance with wide eyes, his heart racing. He could hardly believe this was really happening.

“I- Jesus, Lance,” Keith said before leaning over and kissing him.

His lips were softer than Keith would’ve ever imagined. One of Keith’s hands found their way to the back of Lance’s neck and felt his soft brown hair. Keith had closed his eyes into the kiss and tasted Lance. He was sweet from all the desserts he had consumed that night.

Keith didn’t know how long they made out in his car. It was a passionate, needy kiss, one that Keith completely lost himself in. It could’ve been five minutes, it could’ve been an hour, Keith had no idea. He’d never felt so fucking elated in his entire life; he couldn’t believe Lance felt this way, too. He wished they would’ve been able to figure this out sooner if they both weren’t so damn reticent, but they’d just have to make up for lost time.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were panting. Keith looked Lance in the eyes. It wasn’t something he’d dared to do too much before, look directly into Lance’s eyes. It was too hard. But now, as he gazed into Lance’s deep brown eyes, illuminated only by a nearby lamppost, he felt a wave of happiness so intense that he was rendered completely breathless.

“So what does this mean? Are we…” Lance started.

“Dating? Yeah, I mean, I’d like to,” Keith said quietly, cringing at his own words and feeling unbearably awkward.

But Lance beamed at him, that fucking smile that made Keith’s head hurt, then he hesitated before saying, “Hunk won’t be back yet. Do you wanna maybe come to my room for a little? We don’t have to do anything. Maybe we can just watch a movie, hang out or something? I’m just not tired, I don’t think I’ll be able to go to sleep, like, maybe ever again.”

Keith snorted a laugh at that, because, dammit, he felt the same, adrenaline coursing through his body.

“Okay. You can head up, I’ll park the car and change, then I’ll come to your room.”

“Okay,” Lance said, staring at Keith for another moment before pressing another kiss to his lips, softer and more gentle than earlier, and he got out of the car. Keith was reminded that Lance was stuffed to the brim as he watched him slowly make his way to their building.

When Keith made his way to Lance’s room, Lance had already changed as well, into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. The shirt must’ve been large on him before starting college, because it billowed around the bloated curve of Lance’s gut, obscuring it almost entirely. Lance had put the chocolates and the bear Keith got him on his desk.

They sat on Lance’s bed together backs against the wall, turned on the tv mostly for background noise, and cuddled for the first time. Lance eagerly tucked himself into Keith’s chest, and Keith didn’t miss the way he was still cradling his sore belly. He wrapped an arm around Lance’s shoulders, terrified but also desperate to wrap it around his bulging tummy instead. But he remembered Lance’s red, embarrassed face at the restaurant when he popped a button. Lance might not appreciate Keith’s fondness for Lance’s belly, although, in general, his weight didn’t seem to bother him much. Regardless, he refrained for now.

They exchanged some lazy kisses as the evening went on, in pure bliss. Lance had adjusted himself so his head was still against Keith’s chest, but he could have a hand on Keith’s sharp hip bone. Lance’s hand explored the clothed area tentatively, waiting to see if Keith would stop him. He didn’t, and the hand traveled to Keith’s unequivocally flat and toned stomach. He made a little pleased sound and continued to explore a little.

Keith took this as his opportunity, and let his hand fall from Lance’s shoulder to his waist. Once his hand hit the softness of a love handle, Keith instantly felt warmth pooling in his lower stomach. Lance stiffened a little, his own hand slowing down its own explorations. Keith caressed the pudge with the pad of his thumb and wow was it soft. Even through Lance’s shirt, he could feel how the chub fit in his hands, the softness molding to fit his grip. He inadvertently made a little happy sound, similar to the one Lance had made earlier.

He felt tension leave Lance’s body when it was obvious Keith wasn’t unhappy with Lance’s body. He boldly moved his hand further across Lance’s middle, until his palms were resting on the crest of his belly, where the bloat was most obvious. It was insanely warm, obviously trying its damndest to digest the unholy amount of food crammed into it. Keith felt a little bad for Lance because there’s no way that was comfortable. So he did what seemed to make sense; when he was sore from the gym, he’d use a foam roller to massage out his pain. He began rubbing Lance’s belly gently with his deft fingers, searching for particularly tight areas and giving them his attention.

Lance’s hand had stopped exploring Keith entirely, so he looked down at Lance, afraid that maybe a belly rub was presumptuous, but Lance’s eyes were closed and a very pleased little smile was on his face.

He thought maybe Lance had fallen asleep, it was well after midnight now and Keith was beginning to feel tired too, not to mention that Hunk would likely be returning soon, when Lance’s stomach gave a loud gurgle that echoed through the room that was silent except for the quiet noise of the TV. Lance’s eyes opened and gave a groan and shifted a little. Keith lifted his hand to let him do so.

“What was that? You can’t possibly be hungry,” Keith said, not unkindly, just genuinely shocked.

“God, no, I’m just, um, digesting. It’s kinda loud when I eat too much,” Lance said, a flush coming back to his cheeks.

“Oh,” Keith said, feeling silly, but unsure what else to say.

Lance sighed and shifted so he could lay down vertically on the bed and resting his head on his pillows, leaving room behind him for Keith.

“Spoon me,” Lance said with a lazy stretch.

Keith laid down and got in position to do so, but protested, “I’m getting tired, I can’t fall asleep here.”

“Why not?” Lance said, tensing a little again as Keith draped his hand across his belly.

Keith hummed happily and pressed himself flush against Lance’s back, noting happily that his ass was indeed as squishy as it looked.

“I’d rather not have our friends find out about us dating by Hunk walking in on us spooning,” Keith explained, and Lance groaned.

“Ugh, You’re right. We’d never hear the end of it. It’s fine, we won’t fall asleep,” Lance said, already completely relaxed under Keith’s hold. He began to caress Lance’s belly again.

And so they fell asleep.

When Keith awoke in the morning, he was disoriented for a moment before Lance stirred a little under him, and the previous night came back in a flood.

Keith hesitantly sat up, being careful not to wake Lance, and spotted Hunk with a shit eating grin, sitting on his own bed, reading a book.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, as to not wake Lance, but wickedly, grin still on his face.

Keith grumbled testily without giving an actual response.

“I’d ask you how your date went, but the answer to that question seems perfectly obvious.”

“Ugh,” Keith said, scrubbing his face with his hands.

“You know, you should’ve at least texted Shiro to let him know you weren’t going to be back in your room last night. You know how ‘mother hen’ he gets. He’d have been nervous if we didn’t find you here, lounging with our dear Lance.”

Lance stirred more substantially then, rolling over a little and blinking those beautiful eyes open. Laying on his back like that emphasized the bit of pudge that was beginning to collect along his jawline. Sun was streaming in through the windows, making every part of him look like it glowed. He looked beautiful, and Keith felt his face soften looking at him.

Hunk made a gagging sound.

They all went to brunch that morning, upon Allura’s insistence. Hunk had already told everyone about them, obviously. Brunch consisted of lots of teasing and gagging noises from Pidge and Hunk, genuine congratulations from Shiro, and endless doting and squealing from Allura. They were the center of attention to be sure.

Lance, in typical Lance fashion, rolled with it beautifully, throwing an arm around Keith’s shoulders or waist with every compliment or complaint from their friends, even pecking Keith on his flaming cheeks a couple times.

Keith was sure that Lance’s stomach hadn’t lost its entire bloat from last night, but that didn’t stop him from ordering a full stack of pancakes, eggs that he doused in hot sauce, sausage and bacon, an order of hash browns, several glasses of orange juice and coffee with plenty of cream and sugar. Keith ordered an omelette with a side of seasonal fruit. The contrast between their meals alone was staggering.

Lance plowed along looking supremely happy, the way he always did when he was eating. Everything about it made Keith’s heart flutter.

Chapter Text

Come mid April, after about two months of dating, Keith was sure he was in heaven. Everything about his relationship with Lance was wonderful. He had just texted him to come down to his room, as Shiro had just left for football practice and wouldn’t be back until after dinner.

Keith was feeling a little frisky, which he hoped Lance would reciprocate. They hadn’t had sex yet, it was something they’d agreed to take slowly, but Keith was regretting that very much as the weeks went on. They’ve given each other hand jobs, and finally started blowing each other within the past couple weeks. They’ve waited two whole months for actual sex. That’s long enough, right?

Definitely, Keith thought as Lance strolled into Keith’s room without knocking. He had continued to put on weight in the past months, most of it settling along his softening tummy. But the rest of his body hadn’t escaped unscathed either.

His thighs had swelled and softened. Whenever Lance was in just boxers or a pair of sweats that were beginning to get snug, Lance could see they jiggled a little with every step. His ass was looking absolutely delicious, too, straining the seams of all Lance’s jeans. Although, he hadn’t really been wearing jeans lately. Keith realized with a start that they probably didn’t fit for shit anymore. Hell, Keith hadn’t seen him wear something as tight as a button up since Valentine’s Day itself. Lance had been wearing almost exclusively sweats and t-shirts for weeks.

The sweatpants Lance was in right now were looking snug across his backside. Keith felt his dick begin to pay attention. His shirt, too, was looking like its days of being acceptable in public might be numbered. Ironically, it was an old swim team shirt from high school. It was sinfully snug across Lance’s belly, and Keith could make out the hollow of his belly button. His stomach was beginning to genuinely protrude over his waistband, not just when his pants were too tight. His shirt bunched around the plush roll at his sides that pushed over his waistband. Keith could even see the little peaks of fat that were beginning to surround his nipples.

Allura had teased him good-naturedly the other day, after he had demolished an entire pizza by himself and was stealing slices of other people’s pizzas, that he had put on the freshman fifty, instead of fifteen. Lance seemed to take the joke in stride, turning a little pink in the cheeks, but laughing and continuing to swipe slices of other’s pizzas.

Keith couldn’t keep her words out of his head. It was an obvious joke, because Lance hadn’t gained quite that much. Absolutely every bit of thirty. Maybe somewhere between thirty and forty? But after hearing Allura say that, all he could think about was what Lance would look like when he hit fifty pounds. Because he didn’t seem to be slowing down.

Keith had been sitting at the edge of his bed and he patted his lap with his hands, smiling mischievously. He really wanted to feel Lance’s weight on his thighs right now. Lance returned the grin and flopped down heavily onto Keith’s lap, catching him immediately in a kiss. Keith’s hands went to Lance’s chubby sides and gave the rolls an appreciative squeeze. Lance squirmed in his lap, and Keith felt his dick getting hard, quick.

He snuck his hands under Lance’s shirt and groaned out loud at the feeling of the soft flesh filling his hands. He brought his hands to the front of Lance’s belly, and was surprised to feel it was firm. It was around 4 pm, well past lunchtime. Someone’s been snacking. Excessively, from the feel of it.

Lance had similarly stuck his hands under Keith’s shirt, running his fingers over the hard planes of Keith’s abdomen. Keith pulled back from the kiss and took his shirt off.

Lance’s eyes trailed over Keith’s hard abdomen appreciatively before swooping back in to resume their kiss. Keith tugged Lance’s shirt a few times, trying to encourage him to take it off, but he didn’t seem to get the idea.

That was something, too. Lance didn’t seem to mind his weight, even when attention is drawn to it. Whether someone makes a comment, or he orders an exorbitant amount of food in public, or someone pats him on the belly, he never seems to mind. But then, when it came to Keith, he could get a little bashful about his body. It drove Keith crazy because he wasn’t sure why Lance was so shy about it.

Keith knew he never said anything negative about it. Maybe some amiable teasing when they weren’t together, but that had never seemed to bother him in the least. It was only once they started going out that Lance seemed to have some reservations about his body. Keith told Lance all the time that he was beautiful, and Lance would smirk and preen happily, but once his shirt was off, it was like he had more trouble accepting the compliments Keith wanted to shower him with. Keith was scared that if he admitted to Lance that he really, really liked Lance’s body, Lance wouldn’t appreciate it. Or worse, he’d feel fetishized. Which was the absolute last thing Keith wanted.

“C’mon, babe, take this off,” Keith encouraged, gently pushing Lance’s shirt a little higher on the crest of his belly. He pressed gentle kisses to Lance’s soft jaw.

Lance hesitated, only for a second, before peeling the tight shirt over his shoulders, and tossing it on the ground to join Keith’s. His cheeks were only a little pink. Keith smiled happily and rubbed a callused thumb over Lance’s puffy nipple. Lance gasped.

“So handsome,” Keith said, kissing along Lance’s throat. His hands made their way around Lance’s ample backside, feeling the warm flesh fill his hands. He trailed his hands over Lance’s clothed thighs, savoring how thick they were. His hands moved back to his belly and gently traced the small stretch marks that were beginning to appear on Lance’s lower belly. When he and Lance started dating, Keith knew he hadn’t quite had any yet.

Lance palmed Keith’s dick through his jeans, and Keith’s hips bucked up on their own accord. He groaned.

“Don’t do that, unless-” Keith stopped.

“Unless what?” Lance said, staring at Keith with those big doe eyes.

“Unless you’re planning to fuck me,” Keith said, looking at Lance evenly. His hands moved back to Lance’s ass and gave the flesh a squeeze.

Lance bit his lip. It had been his suggestion to take things slow. After seeing that Lance was a bit uncharacteristically shy the first time Keith took off his shirt, he’d agreed, wanting to make Lance as comfortable as possible.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Lance asked.

I’ve been ready since I first saw you months ago, Keith thought, but said, “Yes. But it’s okay if you’re not.”

“Okay. I am. Do you have stuff-?” Lance began to ask as Keith, with Lance still on his lap, leaned over to the bedside table, opened a drawer and pulled out lube and condoms.

Keith felt a little silly, because he knew he looked very eager, but he had been dreaming about Lance’s dick up his ass since he literally first laid eyes on him at the beginning of the school year. Keith held onto Lance’s shoulders and pulled them both of them backwards onto Keith’s bed, Keith on his back and Lance above him.

Lance chuckled and took the lube and condoms from Keith, unbuttoned Keith’s jeans and slid them down his narrow hips, and saw that Keith was commando. He clicked his tongue and looked at Keith chastisingly.

“Was somebody anticipating this?” he teased, wrapping his hand around Keith’s dick, and massaging the head with his thumb.

“Ah-fuck,” was all Keith managed in response, along with bucking his hips.

“Hmm,” was all Lance said in return. He leaned down to nip and press kisses into Keith’s toned inner thighs, while his hands roamed over the hard lines of his abdomen. He gave Keith’s hole a teasing lick, and Keith shuddered and whimpered. That seemed to satisfy Lance, and he uncapped the lube. But then, he hesitated.

“Should we- turn off the lights, maybe?” Lance asked.

“What? No, no. Why?” Keith said, confused. He had drawn the blinds shut before Lance came down (as Lance said, Keith really was anticipating this), so it really would’ve been quite dark in the room without the lights on.

Keith looked at Lance, looking so very plump and pretty between Keith’s bare legs, worrying his lower lip between his teeth with a red flush on his face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful that I think the second you put your dick in me, I’ll come on the spot. And it’ll be really embarrassing. But all the same, I’d really, really like to watch you do it. You’re just so fucking hot, Lance, please-” Keith said, desperation obviously growing.

But it had the desired effect, and Lance’s cocky smile was back and he said, “Alright, alright. Relax, babe, I’ve got you.”

He applied a generous amount of lube to his fingers and gently, painfully slowly, worked two fingers into Keith. Keith moved down to force Lance’s fingers deeper into him. He was no virgin; it burned a little, but it was a satisfying feeling, and when Lance wiggled his fingers, Keith felt like he was shocked with electricity.

His fingers were positively itching to reach out and grab a hold of Lance, to fondle that soft roll that had begun appearing under Lance’s pecs when he sat down, or to get a good grip on his protruding love handles, or to just get another feel of his belly to remind Keith that, before coming down here, he had almost certainly been stuffing his face with junk food.

But, Lance was a little out of his reach, still sitting between his thighs, just now adding a third finger into Keith.

“Lance, please, I’m ready, please just-”

Lance snorted. “No, you’re not. Just hang on.”

“I am, ple-ase,” Keith said, drawing out the syllables.

“Okay, okay, if you’re so impatient. Let me know if I hurt you,” Lance said, and stripped out of his sweats and boxers. He slipped a condom on and moved above Keith.

Keith’s hands were on Lance’s love handles like magnets the second he got close enough. Lance’s belly hung gently in the space between them, and fuck, it really did look big. Maybe it really was closer to forty pounds.

The very thought made him buck his hips and take Lance’s dick a little too quickly, and he hissed, feeling the sharp sting of being stretched too quickly. Lance was well endowed, maybe Keith should’ve let him take his time stretching him out.

“You okay?” Lance said, stopping his movements.

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop moving.”

So Lance began moving with more rhythm, and Keith understood why Lance had suggested turning the lights off. Keith was endlessly grateful that he had shot that down.

Lance’s belly jiggled with his thrusts, Keith could feel the reverberations from the rippling flesh where his hands still gripped Lance’s sides for dear life. He was mesmerised, he’d never seen something more magnificent in his entire life. Every plump, flabby pound Lance had put on in college was on full display as his belly bounced in what was likely the most physical activity Lance had partaken in since high school. Even his plush pecs wiggled with the movement.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking hot,” Keith said, trailing his hands all over Lance’s abdomen, squeezing and prodding and caressing.

“Oh, fuck,” Lance groaned as Keith leaned up and took one of his puffy nipples in his mouth, but Lance kept a strong, steady rhythm. They had been at it for a few blissful minutes, when Lance angled himself just a little differently, and-

Keith let out what could only be defined as a shriek as Lance’s dick hit home. “Oh fucking shit, right there. Holy shit- I’m fucking cuh-close,” Keith whimpered. His hands were clamped again around the beautifully yielding flesh that sat proudly above Lance’s hips.

Lance moved further back to balance on his knees, instead of putting his weight on his hands like he had been doing. Keith was going to protest, as his belly was now further away, but Lance took one of his now free hands, still slick with lube, and began working Keith’s dick as well.

He didn’t last long after that, with Lance drilling him, belly bouncing beautifully as he did so. His vision went white and he grunted gutterally, painting Lance’s belly in white stickiness. Lance came a couple pumps after, and collapsed on top of Keith.

It knocked the wind out of him a little, but the heavy weight of Lance on top of him was so satisfying, so delicious, that he wrapped his arms around his back, holding Lance in place. Their spunk smeared between their torsos, but Keith didn’t care, because he could feel how Lance’s belly mushed softly into his own hard torso. Lance peppered lazy kisses into Keith’s collarbone, and Keith carded a hand through Lance’s soft hair.

Too soon, Lance moved to get up. Keith’s arms were still around him like a vice, and he made an unhappy noise, not wanting to release him.

“Keith. We have to clean up. It’ll just be worse if we wait. We can order dinner or something, too. I’m hungry.”

That’s a lie, Keith thought, remembering the firmness of Lance’s belly. Did he think Keith couldn’t feel that? Didn’t know what it meant? Since Valentine’s Day, Keith had given Lance more than a couple belly rubs after his overindulgences. He wasn’t hungry. He just wanted food. The thought made Keith shiver.

But Keith said, “Okay,” and they ordered Thai.

They discovered a problem neither of them had really thought of: communal showers. They showered in shifts (Keith luckily had one robe and neither of them was about to walk outside the room in just a towel, not with their chests both covered with obvious evidence of sex), and then the robe went into the wash with Keith’s sheets.

Lance had run down to get the food and Keith remade his bed with his spare set of sheets. Keith was grateful for Lance in many, many ways, but unexpectedly, he was beginning to appreciate the reminders to eat regular meals.

Lance would sooner die than miss a meal, but it wasn’t unusual for Keith to forget a meal entirely if he was busy. He’d noticed the repercussions of it, too, before he started going out with Lance. He still went to the gym often enough, but he wasn’t consuming enough calories to keep his frame as muscular as he liked. His shirts had started to get a little loose. That changed once he started spending a lot of time with Lance, who most certainly had not missed a single meal since arriving on campus.

They turned something on TV that Keith was barely paying attention to, still too blissed out from finally having sex with Lance. They were seated on the futon in Keith’s room, which was small enough that their thighs touched. It was distracting.

Keith had a couple bites of his food before cuddling into Lance’s side, needing to feel the bigger man. He slipped his hands under Lance’s snug shirt that he had put back on to retrieve their food (Keith himself was in just a pair of boxers), and gave his sides a loving squeeze.

He was used to Lance sometimes tensing a little when Keith did that, but this time Lance gave a pained hiss and recoiled. Keith withdrew his hands immediately and looked up at Lance, alarmed. Lance just chucked a little.

“Sorry. I think you, uh, bruised me a little there,” Lance said.

Keith raised his eyebrows and peeled Lance’s tight shirt up enough to reveal the bulges of fat above his hips. And, oops.

There were definitely little bruises forming along Lance’s love handles, you could tell exactly where Keith’s strong thumbs had dug painfully into his sides. Keith gingerly grazed the sore skin with his fingertips. Now that Keith was looking, Lance’s entire belly looked a little red. Keith thought back to his (maybe more than a little) aggressive explorations of Lance’s torso during sex.

“Why didn’t you say I was hurting you?” Keith asked, feeling terrible.

“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Lance said with an easy smile, pulling Keith’s face up for a gentle peck. “You’re a little rough, whatever. I figured you’d probably leave some marks, but I, uh, appreciated your enthusiasm.” Lance hesitated before quietly adding, “I needed the reassurance today.”

Lance wasn’t looking at Keith when he said it, and instead stuffed his cheeks with more pad thai. Keith tucked himself further into Lance, being probably more careful than necessary not to be too rough with his bruised sides. Maybe they were both feeling a little more tender than usual after their first time with one another, because Lance usually didn’t say stuff like that. And even if he did, Keith probably wouldn’t have inquired further. But maybe they should. Being more transparent with each other was obviously something they still needed to work on.

So Keith questioned it, “What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”

Lance looked a little surprised and smiled down at Keith. He pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s just-” Lance sighed, flushing a little, before continuing, “I asked my parents for some money for new clothes today. They said it was no big deal, they didn’t even ask why but I’m sure they knew, you know? It’s not like they haven’t seen me, I was with my dad, like, a month ago for spring break. It’s just...embarrassing, I guess,” Lance said.

Keith didn’t really know what to say to that. They had never really talked about Lance’s weight before.

But he didn’t have to answer, as Lance continued, “And you,” he smiled happily down at Keith again, “You seem to really not mind. I know we, uh, haven’t talked about it, but you never skip over my stomach or anything when we’re doing stuff. It’d be fine if you did, it would make more sense. But you don’t, and it doesn’t seem like it’s just to spare my feelings, either. It’s nice. You make me feel good.”

Keith felt like his heart was going to explode. Nothing in the world could’ve made him happier.

“I love your body. Like, a lot. I, uh, like the weight you’ve put on,” Keith admitted in a small voice. Lance deserved to have Keith’s honesty after that.

Lance popped another bite of pad thai into his mouth and looked back at Keith. “Yeah? Like, in a kinky way?” There wasn’t an ounce of judgement in his voice.

Keith bit his lips and felt his own face turn dark red. “Um- yeah. It’s hot,” Keith said, and Lance smirked at him.

“I suspected that, but only just now. I had previously thought you just didn’t mind. But the way you touched me today isn’t the way someone touches something they just don’t mind.”

Keith felt himself blush deeper, and he buried his face into Lance’s shoulder with a whine.

“You’re not mad I didn’t tell you sooner?” Keith asked, still buried.

“We’ve only been together two months. I feel like that’s an appropriate amount of time to reveal a kink. So, no, I’m not mad. Although, maybe I’m a little slow and should’ve figured it out sooner. You watched me eat enough food to last a week on Valentine’s Day and still agreed to go out with me afterwards.”

Keith groaned. “I thought I was going to explode that day.”

Lance laughed, “How’d you feel about the button I popped that day? I know you knew.”

If possible, Keith flushed darker and muttered, “It was really hot.”

Lance cackled happily. “You little weirdo. I guess we’re a good match.”

Keith gave him a playful smack on his shoulder, a big smile spreading across his face. It was nice to have gotten his feelings off his chest.

“I don’t have any plans to change my diet. Would you like it if I put more weight on? I’ll probably end up doing it on accident.”

Keith felt his dick twitch at the very thought. He bit his lip and looked up at Lance in lieu on an answer.

Lance just smiled, obviously understanding. “You little weirdo,” he repeated affectionately, giving Keith’s black hair a ruffle. Keith just hummed and pet Lance’s belly happily. His shirt had ridden up to his puffy pecs thanks to Keith’s ministrations.

They sat in silence for a minute, before Lance pointed out, “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

Keith was tracing his stretch marks contentedly, “I’ve been distracted.”

“Eat your food. What would we look like, you wasting away and me blowing up like a balloon?” Keith could tell he meant it as a joke, but a hint of bitterness crept into his voice.

“Don’t talk like that,” Keith said gently, as he picked up his container of cashew chicken and leaned back against Lance. He popped a piece in his mouth.

“Sorry. Just still kinda in a weird mood, I guess.”

Keith didn’t like that. “About the clothes? How can I help?”

Lance smiled at him indulgently, kissed him gently and said, “You already are.”


They went clothes shopping together the next day, and Lance’s new clothes fit him well for the rest of the semester. Keith had obviously insisted on joining in the shopping trip. Lance’s old pants were in a size 30. The 34s fit fine, they were maybe just a tad snug. With Lance’s appetite in mind, they decided 36s might be the prudent choice. They were a bit large, but nothing a belt couldn’t fix.

Lance had been a little disturbed. “Up three pant sizes in eight months. That’s...kind of a lot.”

Keith privately agreed, but knew better than to say so. His feelings on the matter were awestruck, amazed and absolutely aroused, while Lance seemed bashful.

“More like two and a half,” Keith had placed a reassuring hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You know I’ll support you if you want to lose weight, right? I had a hopeless crush on you before you started getting pudgy, and my feelings wouldn’t go anywhere if you lost weight.”

“Yeah?” Lance said, a hint of insecurity in his voice.

“I want what you want.”

Lance considered that, and said, “I want to get a burger after this.”

They had picked up some larger shirts for Lance as well, varying between predominantly larges and a just a handful of XLs, depending on the style. Lance worried his lip a little, seeing the XL tags, but Keith just kissed him until he smiled.

Chapter Text

Lance had asked if Keith would come down to Cuba in mid-July and stay a couple weeks with his family for Lance’s birthday. Keith happily accepted. His lack of family was almost embarrassing in comparison to Lance’s huge family. His plans for the summer had consisted of working as much as possible to try and make the summer go by as fast as possible.

He didn’t have many friends in his small, boring hometown. He had the small house left to him by his dad when he died, but that was about it. He intended to probably sell it once he got an apartment closer to school. Maybe if he and Lance decided to move in together. That was an exciting thought.

The only thing he was looking forward to was making some money. He ended up finding work on a construction site. They paid pretty well, and it was exactly the grueling, laborious work he was looking for. It was a good distraction from how much he missed his friends. Especially Lance.

The only thing he was anxious about was that he wasn’t great in social situations, and was a little nervous that Lance’s family wouldn’t like him. But he missed Lance so much that his concerns were mostly afterthoughts. July couldn’t come quickly enough.

They skyped a few times in the interim, but it wasn’t enough for either of them. Sometimes when Lance had eaten a particularly large meal, he’d snap a picture and send it to Keith, knowing how much he liked it. It was also clear from the pictures that going to Cuba hadn’t stopped him from putting on more weight. When July finally rolled around and Keith walked off the plane into a sweltering wave of midday heat, he could hardly contain his excitement.

He made his way to arrivals, and spotted Lance immediately. He was wearing a pair of navy shorts that did nothing to mask the curviness of his thighs and waistline. They were tight enough that his spare tire had to go up and over the waistband. His shirt, a white short-sleeved button up, fit him okay, but was definitely encroaching into the ‘snug’ category. It wasn’t obscene, the lower buttons were strained but not gaping, and it was tight enough that it didn’t leave much to the imagination. He had a pair of aviators on, his brown hair was a little longer than usual, and he was barely sweating from the heat, just enough to glisten beautifully. Keith felt his breath catch. He was stunning.

Even with his sunglasses on, Keith could tell when Lance’s eyes landed on him, because his face split into that charming, beautiful smile. Keith felt like his heart was going to explode.

Keith hurried to him and fell into his embrace. He felt Lance wrap his soft arms around him and felt Lance’s belly squish against his own hard stomach. He breathed deeply and took in his smell.

With his head resting on Lance’s shoulder, Keith said, “I missed you so much.”

Lance pressed a kiss to Keith’s temple and said, “I missed you, too.”

They made their way to Lance’s mom’s car, Keith holding Lance’s hand tight the whole way. Once they got in, Keith gave Lance a proper kiss, taking his time, remembering and enjoying the taste of his mouth.

When they broke apart, Lance turned the car on and Keith took the liberty of turning the air conditioning up and pointing the vents at himself. He had dressed pretty casually so he could be comfortable for the flight, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. He was already beginning to seriously sweat. How Lance, being both larger and more substantially clothed, was still just glistening beautifully was completely beyond Keith.

Lance cackled at him as he made a sigh of relief when the cool air touched his skin. “I didn’t know you struggled with the heat so much,” he said.

Keith cast him a half-hearted glare and said, “I’m just not used to it. I’ve always lived in New York. And it gets hot there, just not like this. It's so humid

“Hmm,” was all Lance said in return, before giving Keith another peck, and starting the drive home. They made conversation on the way.

“I can tell you’ve been doing serious physical labor, by the way. You look great,” Lance said, looking at him appreciatively as they were at a stoplight.

Keith grinned cockily and flexed an arm. He knew he was more muscular than he’d probably ever been, because all his shirts were getting just a bit tight around the arms and shoulders. He knew he probably wouldn’t stay as big as he was now once school started up again and he wasn’t doing manual labor all day, but he would enjoy it while it lasted.

Lance drew in a sharp breath and reached out to grope his flexed bicep. “Jesus, Keith.”

Keith beamed at the compliment and Lance withdrew his hand once the light changed again. Keith cleared his throat before saying, “You look really great, too.”

Lance’s shirt was strained more now that Lance was seated, and Keith was treated to the sight of tanned flesh peeking through the gaps left by several of the buttons. Lance snickered.

“I thought you’d think so. My mom was kind enough to get me some new summer clothes before I even came down.”

Keith couldn’t help himself. He reached over and grazed a hand over where Lance’s buttons were puckered. The gaps were large enough for him to slip a slender finger inside, so he did, enjoying the feeling of Lance’s soft, warm belly. He gave the lower part, where it was starting to get really flabby, a gentle squeeze.

“I, um. My mom has a scale. I weighed myself yesterday,” Lance said, and Keith stilled, heat pooling instantly in his lower stomach. The car was comfortably cool now, but he felt his face turn red.

Lance glanced at him and chuckled. “Aren’t you gonna ask what I weigh?” Lance said with a rueful pat to the top of his gut. It made it quiver, which Keith felt from where he was still gripping Lance’s lower belly.

“What do you weigh?” Keith practically whispered.

“216,” Lance said.

Keith inhaled sharply, and his eyes were glued to Lance’s belly. The way it wobbled when Lance hit a bump in the road. The way it lapped over his waistband, getting dangerously close to sitting in his lap. The way his chubby little pecs were beginning to rest on his belly when he was sitting, the way his shirt was tight enough for him to notice that. Keith couldn’t fucking wait to get Lance’s shirt off and categorize more ways Lance was beginning to look genuinely fat.

Lance glanced at him, and he must’ve been making some sort of awed face, because he laughed cheerfully. “I love how much you love this. You get yourself so worked up,” he said.

Keith’s hand still had a hold on Lance’s lower belly, and he hefted it up, testing its weight. Lance had plenty of belly for that, to be actually picked up on its own. Keith felt lightheaded. Lance shifted in his seat.

“Don’t get yourself too hot and bothered, now,” Lance said, continuing to drive while casting a dry look Keith’s way, “You still have to meet my family. It’ll be a couple hours still before we have some time to ourselves.”

Keith whined, so loudly and genuinely that he flushed a little, embarrassed by his own reaction. He forced himself to take his hands off Lance’s tummy and to sit upright in his own seat.

Two hundred and sixteen pounds. That was going to be echoing in his mind for a while still. He was at half mast already, and forced himself to look away to get it to go down. But all he could think about was fucking two hundred and sixteen pounds. He tried thinking of Professor Coran’s mustache, and that did the trick. He felt himself calm down.

He finally looked back at Lance, who was also flushed, and peered back at him with a small smile. “You good?” he asked Keith with a laugh.

“Barely. You can’t just say stuff like that when we have places to be,” Keith complained with no real enmity. He was still practically vibrating from excitement, but he didn’t feel like he was going to have to ask Lance to pull the car over anymore.

That made Lance cackle again and he said, “Sorry,” but he didn’t really sound apologetic at all. “You’re just fun to tease.”

When they got to Lance’s house, Keith remembered all at once that he was, in fact, very nervous to meet Lance’s family. He had met his father before, who lived in New York where Lance was born and where he went to most of his middle school, high school, and now where they went to college. That had been a meeting Keith could handle. He had been a surprisingly serious, but not unkind man, and Keith felt like he made a decent impression.

But now, meeting so many others and in a foreign country? Keith felt himself start to sweat again, but not from the heat. The sound of children playing was coming from somewhere in another room, there was a telenovela on the TV, and the smell of something frying in the kitchen.

Lance yelled something in Spanish, and before Keith knew it, he was being firmly embraced by a short, portly woman with the same soft brown hair as Lance.

“You must be Keith, oh, come in, come in. Mijo, take his bags, he is our guest! Keith, come with me to the kitchen, I’m making lunch.”

Lance gave him a reassuring shoulder squeeze and a peck on the cheek before taking his bags off somewhere. Keith was immediately brought into the kitchen.

She put him to work chopping vegetables, which honestly, he appreciated. He would’ve felt unbearably awkward just standing while she was working.

“So, Keith, Lance tells me you do engineering?”

He nodded while dicing an onion. “Yeah, I do aerospace engineering. I’ve always been fascinated by flying and I considered being a pilot, but I don’t want to do commercial flying, and joining the air force didn’t really appeal to me either.”

She beamed at him, looking almost proud, which both was a little confusing and very heartwarming. Lance had her smile for sure, that glowing, painfully happy smile that lights up an entire room.

“That’s very impressive! He tells me you’re very good at it, too!”

Keith blushed a little, feeling pleased. “I do well in my classes,” he admitted.

“He’s being modest,” Lance said, reappearing and giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. “He’s at the top of all his classes. Practically a genius.” She gave an impressed, “Ooh!” and Keith rolled his eyes, but was still grinning.

“Lance, go get your cousins cleaned up and ready for lunch. Keith and I will have it ready in fifteen minutes. They need to be washed up and ready by then. Then Keith can meet them as well,” she instructed him.

“Yes, mama,” Lance droned obediently. She turned her back to them to stir something over the stove, and Lance started leaving the kitchen, but not before groping Keith’s ass and giving him a wink.

She continued to ask Keith questions about himself. It would’ve felt like she was drilling him, but she was so gentle and kind about it that Keith found it entirely unintrusive. Maybe even a little endearing.

They made papa rellenas and had prepared rice and beans, as well. Keith wasn’t much of a cook, but he could follow instructions just fine, so with Lance’s mom guiding him, the end result actually looked quite good.

Keith found himself sweating again in no time. The house definitely had air conditioning, but there was only so much that could be done when working over a deep fryer, then carrying plates of hot food into the dining room.

Keith felt a little overwhelmed again when he first stepped into the dining room. There were some adults, who Keith presumed were Lance’s aunts and uncles, and several children, ranging between the ages of maybe five to ten, impatiently squirming in their seats, clearly eager to go play again.

But then Lance was there, taking a plate from him and giving his shoulder another encouraging squeeze. He went down the table, introducing people whose names Keith knew he’d most likely forget. Lance’s aunts and uncles all seemed to know some English, but his little cousins seemed to know just about none.

Keith feared he’d make lunch awkward, but there were so many different conversations going on at the table, that the English conversation going on between Lance, Keith and Lance’s mom went almost unnoticed, save for the occasional chiming in of an aunt or uncle.

Keith was also treated to Lance popping endless amounts of papa rellenas into his mouth. Keith had finished two and some beans and was feeling content, and Lance had at least five and a more than generous helping of rice.

Lance reached and grabbed two more papa rellenas on his plate. One of his uncles said something to him in Spanish, accompanied with a hearty pat on his own, quite large midsection. Lance laughed and said something back in Spanish, and placed his hand on his own belly and gave it a pat in return. It wobbled, and Keith felt himself turn red. They must’ve said something about food or bellies, and Keith found himself desperately wishing he paid more attention in high school Spanish.

Lance continued to eat, and the buttons on his shirt continued to strain. More of his tanned stomach was exposed between the button gaps now than in the car, thanks to Lance’s belly bloating beautifully from a superfluous amount of starch. Keith squirmed, wishing they were alone so he could wrap himself around Lance as he ate. They found themselves like that often whenever they were eating by themselves. Keith almost always finished eating before Lance, and would just lean into him with a hand draped across Lance’s belly and rubbing when it started to get really full, feeling how it would stretch and bloat to contain all Lance stuffed in it. Keith had missed how much of an absolute glutton Lance was.

He could tell just from casting glances that Lance’s belly was taut and hard against the fabric of his shirt. Despite the gaping of the buttons, it looked strong enough that it wouldn’t pop. Keith found himself disappointed.

Lunch was coming to an end, and the children began to scurry out of the dining room. Keith felt a tug on his shirt sleeve and turned around. Three of Lance’s young cousins stood behind him.

“You play with us?” a small girl, the eldest of them, asked eagerly. Keith tentatively smiled.

“Sure,” he said, and was immediately guided by the hand into the backyard. The wave of heat that followed going outside wasn’t as intense as earlier in the afternoon; gray clouds covered most of the sky now.

There was a treehouse that seemed to contain the other children. There was a stir of excitement among them when Keith emerged, pulled in tow by the girl. The children who had been with her rushed up the rope ladder into the treehouse to join their cousins.

“You, bad guy. You come get us,” the girl explained, and Keith nodded, getting the gist.

She beamed, obviously impressed with her own communication skills (Keith was, too), and took off, climbing the rope ladder with impressive speed, then pulling it up after herself. Her and the other children peered over the edge, giggling, eager to see what possible action the adult would take to capture seemingly unreachable children.

The treehouse wasn’t anything too complex, it was basically just a wooden box that was open on top, nestled safely in the center of the tree, where most of the branches were. It was a thick, strong tree, but it wasn’t very tall. The bottom of the treehouse was maybe only seven feet off the ground. The tree had some low branches, so it looked perfectly climbable to Keith.

Keith was planning his attack, and he absently noticed Lance and some other adults make their way outside to sit on the patio that was shaded by a large canopy. They had a big pitcher of lemonade and what looked like a bowl of potato chips. Lance was happily plopped on a chair, his legs spread, but his thighs were thick enough that they touched anyways. Lance was happily munching away, belly still looking bloated from lunch. Keith felt his mouth go dry.

He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He made a jump to get his strong hands around the lowest hanging branch, and pulled himself up with ease. Playfully terrified screeches followed his progress, and Keith felt himself grin. The kids realized he was getting to them fast, so they dropped the ladder again, and scurried out like ants.

Keith chased them around the yard for a while. The game had changed somewhere down the line; when Keith caught a kid, he’d put them in the treehouse, who could then only be freed by another child sneaking past Keith into the treehouse, screaming, “Libertad!” and making a run for it. The children were screaming with laughter, and Keith found himself enjoying their delight and a good stretch of the legs.

Eventually, a loud crack of thunder lit up the steadily darkening sky, and rain came down in buckets.

Keith welcomed it, honestly. It was cool on his sweating skin. Half the kids shrieked and ran inside, the other half just giggled and started splashing in puddles. Enough angry shouts from their parents from the dry, covered patio, got them to reluctantly head inside, too.

Soon enough, only Keith and Lance were left outside, who was still waiting for him on the patio. Keith joined him, and took his shoes and shirt off so he wouldn’t get water and mud in the house.

“My family already adores you,” Lance said, taking Keith’s shirt from him and wringing it out so Keith could do the same with his socks.

“You think so?” Keith said hopefully. Lance snorted.

“I know so. Anyone who can easily handle six little kids for over two hours is going to earn the respect of their parents,” Lance said, picking up the almost empty bowl of what was not potato chips, Keith could see now that he was closer.

“What are those?”

“Tachinos. They’re fried plantains. Try one,” Lance said, offering the bowl to Keith. They tasted a surprising amount like potato chips, but the texture was a bit different and they were more thickly sliced. Thunder rumbled again above them.

“We have some time to ourselves now. The kids will be tuckered out, and I can finally take you to my room, where we’ll be sleeping. I could go for a nap right about now,” Lance said with a lazy stretch.

“Oh, yes, please,” Keith practically groaned.

They made their way through the house and to Lance’s bedroom. Keith stripped out of his wet shorts and boxers. He pulled out a fresh pair of boxers from where Lance had put his bags earlier, but didn’t put on any more clothing.

Lance had sprawled out on the bed, hands folded behind his head, looking up at Keith languidly. He was still completely clothed.

Keith straddled his hips and leaned down for a slow, sensual kiss. Lance moved his hands so he could grip Keith’s narrow waist, his thumbs moving to explore the lean muscles. Without breaking the kiss, Keith began to unbutton Lance’s snug shirt. He could feel, as he suspected, that the top of Lance’s belly was firm, warm and stuffed, but was still delightfully soft and pliant towards the bottom.

Once Keith got the whole thing unbuttoned, he broke the kiss to appraise Lance’s torso. He was propped up on his pillows just enough that the upper roll between his belly and his pecs was still visible. The soft expanse of his love handles bulged obscenely over the snug waistband of his pants. To Keith’s delight, stretch marks were beginning to form there, too. Keith traced them gingerly and wrapped his hand around the chubby bulges. He felt a thrill as they filled his hands more than ever before. He gave them a squeeze and felt them mold under his fingertips.

Keith noticed that along the front of Lance’s belly, there were little indents left by the buttons of his shirt. He traced them reverently, and ran his fingers over the stretch marks of his lower belly. Before, he only had stretch marks spidering from his belly button downwards. Now, in addition to the new ones on his love handles, there was another small one crawling up above his belly button. He gave that one a kiss before giving Lance’s lower belly, which was definitely becoming the widest part of his belly, a good squeeze. It was so doughy and flabby, completely soft and wobbly. It pooched over his waistband so nicely, giving him the beginnings of a real underbelly. Lance was definitely bigger, visibly fatter, than when he left college for the summer. He must’ve put on at least ten of those two hundred and sixteen pounds just in the first two months of summer alone.

That thought, coupled with another squeeze of that fat underbelly, made Keith groan out loud. He had been literally biting his tongue so he wouldn’t make noise in the crowded house. Lance just chuckled at him.

“Are these the summer clothes your mom bought you?” Keith asked as Lance sat up a bit to pull the shirt off his shoulders and toss it to the ground. The movement emphasized the roll beneath his pudgy pecs and made his belly wobble.

“Yeah,” Lance said.

“Did you tell her what size to get? Or did she just guess? Looks like she might’ve gone with a size too small,” Keith said, toying with Lance’s tight waistband. Lance blushed.

“She, um, asked my new sizes. These are 36s and the shirt’s a large. They, uh, fit better when I’m not so full,” Lance said weakly.

Keith wasn’t about to tell him that they looked a bit snug at the airport when his belly was all but empty. Instead, he just went with an agreeable, “Okay.” Lance loved with Keith fondled him, and so often seemed to have no problems discussing his weight, but sometimes weird little things made him feel insecure. His increasing clothing size seemed to be something he wasn’t entirely confident about yet. Keith moved up to kiss Lance again, a sweet gentle, reassuring kiss. He felt the tension leave Lance. He drummed his fingers softly on Lance’s belly.

“Am I okay to keep going?” Keith asked, not wanting to overstep if Lance was in a ‘weird mood,’ as he liked to call his self-conscious days.

Lance nodded, and Keith thumbed open Lance’s pants. They were tight enough that Keith’s knuckles sunk into his plush underbelly.

Lance’s gut immediately filled the space and pushed down the zipper by itself. Lance sighed in obvious relief, then glanced down at his belly with a small scowl.

“Or maybe they just fit better when I wasn’t quite so fat,” he said, giving his generous belly a rueful pat. The words didn’t come out as self deprecating as Keith expected. More accepting. Maybe they were making progress.

“That would be okay, too, you know,” Keith said placatingly, moving in for another kiss. Lance hummed like he wasn’t entirely convinced, but was willing to pretend he was in exchange for kisses.

Keith tugged Lance’s snug pants over his widening hips and down his thickening thighs. He took a moment to rub his chubby thighs appreciatively. His inner thighs were almost as soft as his delightful lower belly. He pressed gentle kisses into them, before moving up to where Lance’s boxers were beginning to tent.

They reciprocated slow, lazy blow jobs. They had plenty of time to have proper sex, but neither of them were really in the mood for it. Keith blamed it on the weather. The rain was still coming down in sheets, making it perfect cuddle weather. Keith wasn’t usually much of a napper, but Lance was most definitely a napper, and Keith always found it abundantly easy to fall asleep next to the larger man.

And that’s where Keith found himself, with Lance’s head tucked comfortably into his chest. Keith was on his back and had an arm slung around Lance’s plush waist, gently caressing his love handles. Lance had his own arm slug across Keith’s stomach, tracing his abs and making idle patterns with his fingertips.

"What did your uncle say to you today? During lunch?" Keith asked. He had to know.

Lance knitted his brows, trying to recall what Keith was talking about. He grinned when he remembered, and said, "Oh, he said that I was giving his appetite a run for its money."

"And what did you say back?"

Lance smiled at him, a twinkle of mischievousness in his eyes. "I said that I was giving his gut a run for its money, too."

Keith bit his lip. "Jesus, Lance. I need to learn Spanish." Lance laughed and snuggled deeper into Keith's chest.

“I’m glad you played with the kids today. They finally have someone to play with again,” Lance said, closing his eyes.

“I don’t mind. And again? Who used to?”

Lance snorted. “Me. They’ve been pestering me all summer to chase them around and shit. I told them I’m too fat for that now,” Lance said contentedly, stretching like a house cat.

Now Keith snorted. “More like too lazy. I’m sure you could chase them around for a little if you really wanted to,” Keith teased with a squeeze to a plump love handle.

“Don’t be so sure. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m pretty out of shape. And those little fuckers are fast.”

Now there was an absolutely dirty thought. Lance being too fat to chase kids around, even for only a couple minutes. Keith dwelled on that for a couple moments and felt himself beginning to get excited again. Then a soft snore reached his ears.

He looked up at Lance. His mouth was slightly agape and he was breathing deeply. From this angle, Keith could tell that he was only a few pounds shy of having a true double chin. His face had been angular enough that he didn’t carry many obvious signs of his weight gain there, his cheeks just a little puffier and his jaw just a little softer. But from here, there was definitely a little pouch of fat that had taken up residence under Lance’s jaw.

Keith smiled, kissed it gingerly as to not wake Lance, and drifted to sleep himself.


And so a routine developed for the four weeks that Keith was in Cuba.

Keith’s talents at entertaining the children were immensely appreciated by all the adults, and became almost his daily task. It was a different set of kids nearly every day, as different relatives came over every day, but he had learned all their names and even picked up a few Spanish phrases.

Meanwhile, Lance would eat.

He’d eat whatever he could get his hands on during the day. One day it would be empanadas, just one after the other as he lazed on the patio watching Keith run around. One day it would be endless pasteles, flaky pastries filled with cream cheese. On days where his mom didn’t make something homemade and delicious, Lance didn’t seem to mind one bit snacking on prepackaged chips or other snacks. Every now and then his mom would heckle him to do this or that chore, and he always would, without complaint. But then his round ass would find itself back on the patio with a glass of sugary juice and more snacks. Then, at meals, he’d always eat plenty, his appetite as endless as ever. He was well-fed, to be sure. And he looked it. He was taking full advantage of having no obligations in the summer.

There were a couple days that they took to themselves, where Lance showed Keith his favorite places around the small town, and they spent a couple days exploring Havana.

Lance’s mom made an absurd amount of homemade turrón de maní on Lance’s actual birthday. It was a kind of peanut nougat that was, admittedly, very delicious. Almost as delicious as it was to watch Lance eat nearly an entire loaf of the stuff by himself. Keith found himself in awe every day with the amount of food his growing boyfriend could put away.

Keith was only there four weeks, but at the end, he swore Lance looked visibly bigger than when he got there. He’d noticed the amount of pants and shirts he wore with buttons began to dwindle, opting for more comfortable t-shirts and shorts with elastic waists. He could still fasten himself into the very biggest of his proper shirts and pants, but the number was diminishing fast.

They were laying contentedly in bed the night before Keith’s flight. They had just had sex, and Keith had topped. They went back and forth somewhat frequently; Lance generally preferred to top and Keith generally preferred to bottom, but neither of them was opposed to switching it up occasionally. But it seemed that the bigger Lance got, the more inclined he was to bottom, or at least have Keith ride him. Keith was fairly sure it was out of laziness, as Lance was certainly looking more exhausted and red-faced after topping than before, and Keith didn’t mind picking up the slack.

For the first time in the whole four weeks that Keith had been there, the house was empty except for them. Lance’s mom was out with some friends (she had assured him she’d be back to see him off in the morning), and all extended family had gone back to their respective homes.

They had just cleaned up, and Keith rubbed Lance’s fat tummy tenderly. He had eaten three generous platefuls of picadillo. On top of all the snacking he had done in the afternoon. Then followed up with a generous portion of flan. It was bloated and distended, which was the norm nowadays. Keith pawed at Lance’s fat sides, and watched as his belly wobbled in response. Lance put his own hand on top of Keith’s where it was on his gut and laced their fingers together.

“I think I’ve put on more weight just in the time you’ve been here,” he said.

Keith bit back on the snort that threatened to emerge because he most definitely had gotten even pudgier the past month. Instead, he squeezed Lance’s hand and said, “I think so, too.”

“I think I’ve become a true glutton this summer. All I did all day was sit around and eat,” Lance said. He released Keith’s hand and gave his belly a couple of hard pats. It quivered in response. Keith moaned quietly.

“I weighed around 160 last August, when we started college, by the way,” Lance continued, “maybe a little more, because that was when I finished high school and swim team, and I might’ve already put on a few before starting college. But still, somewhere around there.”

Keith gulped. Their sophomore year was starting in only a few weeks, which would make it a year. Which means Lance gained at least fifty-six pounds since then, with Lance’s most recent weight being 216. But Keith knew it was more than that now.

He was squirming like a teenager, already half hard again, and he knew he was looking at Lance needily, because Lance took one look at him and laughed out loud.

“You’re so cute when you’re so bothered,” Lance teased, kissing the top of his head.

Keith whined loudly and jostled Lance’s belly, watching it move. “How could I not be bothered when you say stuff like that? You’re so- so fucking hot.”

“Yeah? You know…” Lance paused and looked at Keith mischievously, “No one’s here, we could use my mom’s scale. Would you like that? I’ve gotta be up at least a couple pounds in the past month, the way I’ve been eating,” he said, surveying his own belly.

Keith groaned loudly and shoved his face into Lance’s chest to mask his blush. “Yes. Yes, I’d really really like that a lot. Let’s do that. Now. God, what did I do to deserve you?”

Keith couldn’t keep his hands off Lance as they walked to the bathroom. He trailed close behind him, hands glued to his soft hips.

“You’re going to have to let go of me. You’ll throw the scale off,” Lance chastised jokingly, raising an eyebrow at Keith’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. Keith bit his lip and removed his hands. Lance stepped on the scale.

While the numbers were calculating, Keith took a moment to admire their contrast. Keith was still a little burned on his nose and shoulders from a day when he forgot sunscreen, but otherwise was as pale as ever. He was still as lean and muscular as ever, too, from hoisting children over his head and chasing them around for the past few weeks. He was just an inch or so shorter than Lance. Lance, who was especially tan from the few times he’d sat in the sun rather than on the covered patio. From behind, the rolls on his side looked bigger than ever, forming a delightful roll of back fat. He was looking down at the scale, which made his chin double. Keith wanted to kiss it.

Keith kept his distance best he could, not wanting to be breathing down Lance’s neck. But he could tell when the number popped up, because Lance’s jaw went slack and his eyes widened.

“What’s it say?” Keith asked, his voice a higher pitch than usual because of his excitement.

Lance cleared his throat, turned over his shoulder to look at Keith, and gestured for him to come and look.

Keith didn’t need to be told twice and scurried to Lance, placing a loving hand on his soft hip and peering around the bigger man.

“227,” Keith said reverently, feeling his face go red. “That’s eleven pounds in a month. How- good god, you’re incredible,” Keith said, his arms acting on their own accord and feeling all over Lance’s torso, feeling exactly where those eleven pounds made a difference.

Lance just chuckled, his belly jiggling, as he stepped off the scale.

“Guess I went a little overboard these past weeks,” Lance said offhandedly. Although he gasped nicely when one of Keith’s hands fondled a chubby pec gently.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Keith said, slamming his lips into Lance’s while continuing to explore his body with his hands. He was painfully hard again, reveling in the knowledge that Lance had gained weight quicker than ever before. He’d put on sixty-seven pounds the past year, but eleven of those were within just the past month. With every pound of dimpled, soft flesh Lance was adding, he just got more insatiable and lazier. This summer was unparalleled for Lance’s waistline.

Lance broke the kiss after a while to palm at Keith’s dick. “Ready for round two?”

Keith nodded eagerly, “God, yes. Will you top? I want you above me.”

Lance groaned, “How about you ride me?”

“You’re getting lazy,” Keith admonished, meeting Lance’s eyes to make sure he hadn’t overstepped.

Lance pouted comically and grabbed a generous handful of his pudgy belly and jiggled it. “This is getting heavy. Maybe it has something to do with all those plates of picadillo. But I guess I can indulge you, you weirdo.”

Chapter Text

Keith only had to wait two more weeks before school started and he could see Lance again. They were, of course, rooming together, and while they had decided to not quite move off campus yet, but they did manage to snag one of the nicer dorm rooms with its own bathroom.

“You went shopping without me,” Keith had accused when he first saw Lance dressed in jeans that fit perfectly along his widening waist.

“Nice to see you, too,” Lance had said dryly.

Keith later learned that Lance had sized up to 38s and he was every bit of an XL now, with some new button-up shirts clocking in at an unbelievably hot XXL. Lance had admitted it with no shame. He seemed to finally be shedding any last bits of self-consciousness. Though his new clothes fit him nicely, he had taken to wearing his pants buttoned below his belly anyways. Keith figured it was probably more comfortable and less constraining.

What Keith hadn’t really anticipated was just how busy their sophomore year was. They were both essentially done with their gen-ed’s, and found themselves needing to spend much more time on school work as their classes got harder.

Lance took the added stress absolutely brilliantly, proving once more, in Keith’s opinion, that Lance was some otherworldly perfect creature. He had just as much on his metaphorical plate as Keith, but he never seemed to get rattled. On the very rare occasion that he’d get worked up, he’d do some deep breathing exercises and that would be that.

Keith on the other hand, was a disaster. He’d skip meals and the gym, he’d work on something nonstop for hours until he could barely see straight, then beat himself up for not being able to work on it more.

“You’ve gotta slow down, babe. Have you eaten today?” A concerned Lance had asked on more than one occasion.

“I can’t slow down, Lance. This has to be submitted by midnight. That’s in three hours!”

“It won’t take you more than one to finish it if you take a break and give your brain a rest. We have some leftover Mexican, I’ll heat it up for you. We’ll watch an episode of something. C’mon, put your laptop away, you’re gonna fry your corneas.”

Through the semester, with Lance’s help, Keith was getting a bit better at handling stress. He was working himself to the bone less often and he made a point to allocate time to doing things he liked, like going to the gym and hanging out with his friends. He was learning to cope.

It was early November, and Keith had found himself feeling that horrible wave of frustration coming on when he couldn’t get past a particular equation, and announced he was taking a break. Lance beamed proudly at him and said that he would, too.

It was late, almost one in the morning, but that wasn’t unusual for them. Neither of them had classes before 9:30 am, not since the first semester of freshman year when they realized that was a bad idea.

They were on their pushed-together beds, Keith was tucked into Lance’s soft chest while Lance munched on an enormous bag of Halloween candy that had been on sale since the occasion itself had passed. He’d bought three bags of it just two days ago, and was looking close already to finishing the first one.

Keith slid his hand onto Lance’s lap, and slipped his hand under Lance’s belly where it was resting on his thighs. It had started doing that at the very end of the summer. Keith hummed contentedly and pulled his hands further up Lance’s belly, pulling some of his t-shirt with, revealing the plump curve of Lance’s lower belly. Keith caressed it lovingly, tracing the stretch marks that decorated his skin.

Lance had undoubtedly put on more weight since their sophomore year began. Keith was noticing Lance’s weight it ways he hadn’t before, and it was fucking hot. If Lance sat in his lap for a couple minutes, he’d start to lose feeling in his feet because Lance was so heavy. Lance had started making little grunting noises when he’d get out of bed, or stand up from a particularly low seat, like hauling his bulk around was becoming serious work. Keith figured it probably was since he’d gained so much weight so quickly. If he had to stand or walk a lot during the day, he’d complain that his feet hurt and his back was sore. He’d bitch and moan about having to walk to a far building on campus, avoiding it whenever possible. Keith had taken to running errands for him all over campus when Lance claimed a building was 'too far'. He'd drop off library books on Lance's behalf, check his mailbox, drop assignments off in a teacher's inbox, things like that. He'd usually swing by a common area bring Lance a coffee and a snack on his way back, too.

So, unsurprisingly, Lance had continued to balloon.

He’d developed stretch marks on his chubby inner thighs, and when he sat in classroom chairs, his thighs were big enough that they spread over the whole seat. If a chair had armrests, they’d brush Lance’s chunky love handles. In a weird way, Keith missed those dumb high school desks where the chair was attached to the desk, because he would’ve bet money that Lance’s belly would bump into the desk. He was genuinely fat.

Lance leaned back against the wall with a content sigh, tossing the now empty candy bag off the bed. His belly was big enough that, even when leaning back, the bottom drooping curve of it still managed to brush the tops of his thighs. His sides were getting thicker, the abundance of extra fat piling there in rolls stacked upon one another. Keith ran his hand reverently over the rolls, gently pinching each of them. His chest, too, was getting pretty chubby. His pecs weren’t just a bit raised anymore, rather they were properly fat, and they rested happily on the dome of Lance’s belly.

Keith started playing with Lance’s lower belly again, it was where he was the softest, the jiggliest, the fattest. He slipped his hand under Lance’s belly again, but this time hefted it up, testing the weight of it. Then he dropped it, watching with unspeakable pleasure as Lance’s gut jiggled in his lap for a moment before stilling again.

“Be gentle, there’s like, half a bag of candy in there,” Lance protested.

“Hmm, maybe some chips, too,” Keith said, casting a look at the garbage that contained an empty family size bag of chips. Lance had been rotating between that and the bag of candy all night. Something salty to balance out the sweet, he had said.

“And maybe a couple sodas, and a burger or two from dinner. Oh, and some fries, of course. And that’s just since seven o’clock,” Lance said, tugging his shirt off entirely to encourage Keith even further. He’d taken to saying horribly dirty thing like that to Keith because he knew how much Keith loved it.

“You know, I’ve heard that you’re not supposed to eat past 8 pm,” Keith said, squeezing one of Lance’s chubby pecs.

Lance snorted, “I think I’ve broken that rule about a thousand times just in college alone.”

Keith hummed agreeably and continued to give Lance a belly rub. Lance had closed his eyes and relaxed under Keith’s hands. He moved so he was laying across their bed with his head in Keith’s lap. Keith carded one hand through Lance’s hair and kept the other on his belly, rubbing gently. Keith loved the vantage point he had, where he could clearly see Lance’s double chin that had finally arrived.

“By the way, I was planning on stopping by the gym tomorrow,” Lance said.

“Oh! Uh, okay,” Keith said, meeting Lance’s eyes, trying to mask his shock.

Lance cackled at his panicked look. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to have to worry about your boyfriend losing any of this,” Lance said, grabbing a generous handful of belly fat. “I don’t plan on exercising. It’s just the only place on campus with a scale I can use. All my clothes are starting to get a little tight again.”

“Are you not gonna let me come?” Keith pouted.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Can you control yourself in public?”

“You should come to the gym at noon,” Keith said, ignoring his question, “I’ll have just finished my workout, and that’s when you get out of advanced calculus anyways. We can get lunch after.”

“Hmm, that sounds like a bribe. Very well,” Lance said, giving Keith a playful but sleepy smile. He yawned languidly.

“Go to sleep,” Keith told him, patting his belly, “I’m going to revisit some equations.”

Lance frowned. “Does it have to get done tonight?”

“Not really,” Keith admitted, “It’s only Thursday, well, Friday morning I guess, but I should have time to finish it at some point this weekend. It’s not due until Tuesday.”

“Then come to bed with me,” Lance cooed, sitting up and pressing soft kisses into Keith’s jaw.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” Keith said easily.

They got into bed, and Keith spooned Lance, trailing his hand over the soft rolls of Lance’s waist.


It was a weird realization when Lance finally admitted to himself that he was enjoying gaining weight.

Part of him still felt a weird sense of shame about it and wanted to deny it.

He had gotten a lot more shameless when he discovered Keith was into it, sure, and maybe he had purposefully gone further at some meals than he otherwise would’ve just to see Keith squirm. It was fun. The way Keith lost himself entirely, the way he got so gone when Lance looked particularly big or ate particularly well, it was really hot just to watch. He’d rub his strong hands all over Lance’s body, as if Lance would literally ever protest something like that. The whole thing was undeniably hot.

He had himself convinced for a while that that’s all it was. Keith’s reaction was hot, that’s all. Who wouldn't get aroused by their partner fucking losing it for their body?

The first time he undeniably felt turned on by his growing physique was when Keith visited him in Cuba. He knew he had put on weight since Keith had last seen him, and he was fully intending on eating copious amounts of food while Keith was there, probably with the unintended (but not necessarily unwelcome) consequence of gaining more weight. He found himself wondering how those new pounds would situate themselves. How they’d look making his gut even softer, thicker, and fatter. Where his next stretch marks would pop up.

He had realized with a flush that he had been getting hard. He quickly attributed it to a Pavlovian reaction that he must’ve developed thanks to Keith. His weight was so often rewarded with sex, that now Lance just associated the two things together. He didn’t actually like gaining weight, not like that. That would be…

That would be what? Weird? That’s what he liked to teasingly call Keith. His little weirdo. And it had seemed weird at first, that someone would actively chose a body like Lance’s over someone with hard abs and thighs that didn’t jiggle.

But it would’ve been a blatant lie to say that he hadn’t been enjoying himself. Who wouldn’t have liked to let themselves go, eat whatever they wanted and do as little as they wanted? Especially with the enthusiastic encouragement of their partner? That’s what Lance had been enjoying. He just liked to eat. He hadn't minded gaining weight, but he hadn't actively enjoyed it.

He had palmed his soft belly. He had definitely gained weight so far that summer, he could see it in the way his gut was just beginning to brush the tops of his thighs.

And there it was again. That undeniable rush of pleasure. Arousal. Lance had bit his lip. Best not to dwell on it for now, he had figured.

But Keith’s trip to Cuba turned out to be a bit of cornerstone for Lance. He had fully intended to go a little above and beyond with his consumption while Keith was there. He had to make the trip worth Keith’s while. He definitely got a little carried away, in the best kind of way. All he did for an entire month was sit and eat. He had felt like he woke up everyday visibly bigger than the last, ready for a whole new day of lounging and eating absurd amounts of food. It was lazy, it was indulgent, and it was fucking hot. He’d just watch fit little Keith run around all day, and when Keith took off his shirt on particularly hot days, Lance practically felt like royalty. Sitting, eating, accompanied by a delightful display Keith’s strong muscles rippling in the bright afternoon sun. Dinner and a show.

So, as time went on, it became harder and harder to deny that he wasn’t into it. He liked it. Hell, maybe he always had, since the beginning of freshman year, when he had just a little extra pudge forming along his waist.

But he definitely liked it. He knew that now. He could admit that privately, to himself. He was into it, and was really enjoying himself.

So why, he wondered to himself as he walked to the gym on a brisk November Friday, hadn’t he told Keith already? He was on his way to the gym because he wanted to get weighed, he wanted to know how much he had gained.

He supposed maybe he hadn’t mentioned it to Keith yet because he was a little embarrassed, which didn’t really make any sort of logical sense to him. Keith had admitted his infatuation with this sort of thing (kink, Lance, just call it what it is. It’s a kink) within the first couple months of them dating. He obviously knew Keith would be thrilled by the knowledge that Lance was thoroughly enjoying himself, as well.

Maybe he’d tell Keith today. It was stupid to feel any sort of apprehension. They’ve been together almost a year, after all. Just a couple months shy. The thought alone made him smile happily.

It wasn’t a far walk from his calculus class to the gym. The gym was pretty empty, and he received a few brief glances, but nothing that made him feel uncomfortable. He was probably a pretty unusual sight. A blatantly overweight sophomore, bloated from night after night of indulgences, strolling in the gym for the first time since literally the first week of freshman year. In jeans, no less, indicating that his intentions were definitely not to exercise.

He spotted Keith immediately, at the water fountain refilling his water bottle. He looked good. He had finally stopped losing weight since he’d learned to manage stress better. He looked like maybe he maybe even put a little back on, which was great. Not like the pudge that Lance continuously accumulated, but lean muscle, filling out his chest and shoulders once more.

Shiro was there, too, making what looked like pleasant chit chat. They turned and saw Lance approaching.

“Hey Lance,” Shiro greeted him pleasantly as Keith snaked an arm around his plush waist. “I was just talking to Keith, some of the guys from the football team are throwing a party tonight. You guys should come. Hunk and I will be there, Pidge and Allura are coming too, I think.”

It had been a while since they had been to any sort of party. They went out often enough freshman year, but since sophomore year had been far busier, they deigned to stay in most weekends. Not that either of them minded much. But this could be a fun change of pace.

“I think we should go,” Keith said smiling.

“Okay, sounds fun. We’ll be there,” Lance confirmed.

“Great! I’ll see you guys tonight, then,” Shiro said, and he waved as he left.

“Now let’s get you on the scale and get out of here. I’m hungry,” Keith said quietly, and gave Lance’s side a squeeze.

“I think that’s my line,” Lance said with a pat to his gut.

The scale was tucked in a corner of the locker room, which was luckily completely empty. Lance wouldn’t have minded too much, but this way Keith could be a bit handsy with him, which was admittedly better.

“So I was at, what, like 230 in August?” Lance said.

“227 on August 9th,” Keith said biting his lip and flushing. Lance raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

“If I ever, you know, make you feel weird with stuff like that, you’d tell me, right?” Keith asked, still flushed.

I like it was what he meant to say, but what came out was, “Of course.” Fuck. Why was it so hard to be honest about how he was feeling?

Lance was about to step on the scale when Keith held his hand out to stop him.

“Shoes off,” Keith said, all business. Lance rolled his eyes and obeyed. He slipped his shoes off and stepped on the digital scale.

He felt his heart begin to race in anticipation. He knew full well the number on the scale would be higher. His 38s really were getting snug. They still technically fit, and he didn’t need to get new pants right this minute, but it would certainly be soon. Maybe after Thanksgiving. Moving up to a size 40 felt insane, it felt like a milestone. The thought of it gave him that delightful warm, tingling feeling deep in his stomach.

Keith was giving him space, like he had done at his mom’s place, obviously making sure not to hover over his shoulder or seem too eager. It was sweet, but unnecessary.

Finally, the scale reported back and flashed up red numbers: 248.

Lance felt a rush of pleasure. He knew it wouldn’t be as absurd as his summer weight gain had been; he was busier. But 21 pounds in just under three months was still a lot.

He waved Keith over to look at the number for himself. He scurried to Lance’s side, and his breath hitched when he saw the number. His hands immediately found their way to Lance’s bulging sides and squeezed.

“You’re so hot, Lance. I- You’re fucking sexy,” Keith said, sounding out of breath.

Lance squirmed, feeling too warm. Keith’s gentle hands wormed their way to Lance’s waistband, to where his belly hung contentedly over the waistband, easily obscuring the button. Keith groaned when he managed to wiggle his fingers into Lance’s waistband.

“These are getting tight,” he said, and Lance thoroughly enjoyed the way Keith’s prying fingers were mushed against his soft hips.

Just then, they heard the door to the locker room open. Somewhat irrational panic jolted through them. Keith quickly pulled his hands out of Lance’s pants and Lance hopped of the scale and haphazardly shoved his shoes back on. They nonchalantly exited the locker room as a couple guys entered, barely glancing at Keith and Lance.

They caught each other’s eyes on the way out, and soon they were stifling giggles. It was a silly situation for them to have panicked like that, like teenagers getting caught making out. Besides Keith getting handsy, getting weighed was something that should be completely innocuous. But it was the opposite for them.

They went and got lunch in the cafeteria. It was one of Lance’s favorite places to eat, because it was buffet style. It was taking more and more to satisfy him lately.

Later, once they had parted again so Keith could attend his evening class, Lance decided to eat a small dinner. He wanted to be able to eat at the party. But a small dinner for him still consisted of a footlong sub with the chips, cookie and drink. And then, on his way back to the dorm, Keith brought him a fried chicken sandwich and some waffle fries too, because he ‘wasn’t sure if Lance had eaten yet’. As if.

It was a delightful thought though, that Lance could easily consume two full meals and still have room for more. He wasn’t hungry, per se, but he knew he’d still have absolutely no problem grazing at the snack table and drinking his fill at the party.

Keith offered to DD, as he wasn’t much of a drinker anyways, but Allura refused. “You’ve been so stressed lately. When’s the last time you’ve had a few drinks and relaxed? Have fun, drink as much or as little as you want and let me worry about corralling you all later,” she had insisted.

Upon arrival, Lance and Hunk grabbed drinks for their group. They hung out casually for a while, enjoying the music and sharing stories of annoying professors, MIA project partners, and the horror that was midterms.

After several drinks, Lance was beginning to feel good. He was starting to feel warm and a little silly. It was pleasant, and felt really good after a couple long weeks of schoolwork. But mostly, he was starting to feel hungry.

It was good timing, because Allura wanted to dance and Keith and Shiro opted to join her. Lance and Hunk decided to see what sort of snacks were around, and Pidge joined them while rattling on about how she couldn’t believe her professor told her she was still going to have to take the final, even with a 98% in the class.

Lance listened to her annoyed rant, nodding at the appropriate times and whatnot. But really, he was mostly just happy to be getting more food in his stomach. The snack table was thankfully quite expansive: mini corn dogs, chips with salsa, guacamole, and queso, little egg rolls, mozzarella sticks, the whole nine yards. It was surely just cheap, frozen stuff, but Lance wasn’t very picky. Especially when it was free.

He piled his plate to the brim, and began dutifully working his way through it. The warm, salty food tasted unspeakably wonderful after the couple of beers he had consumed. Soon enough, his plate was empty and he reloaded, to go at it again. Hunk seemed to be fairing similarly. Pidge had a measly plate with a few chips and some salsa that she was hardly touching, now testily complaining about her astrophysics partner’s incompetince.

They hovered there for a while, leaving only to refill their drinks. Lance was tipsy enough that he didn’t realize how much he was eating until he went to fill his plate again. It was only his third plate, but he had also been just picking stuff off the table before it even reached his plate pretty frequently. Pidge interrupted her own stories to look a bit concerned.

“Not that I care or am trying to tell you what to do, but you guys might want to take it easy on the food. I’m not taking care of either of you if you make yourselves sick,” she said.

“You underestimate us!” Hunk said, mock offended, throwing an arm around Lance, who mindlessly continued working on a buffalo wing. “I think that if Lance and I have proved anything over the course of our college experience, it’s that we can devour an obscene amount of food without any issue,” Hunk proudly proclaimed.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think you’ll find any arguments there,” she said.

Lance would admit she had a point, though. He hadn’t really noticed (his mind was sufficiently occupied until now), but his pants were biting fiercely into his soft sides. He had situated them below the large swell of his gut, but as he was bloated from all the alcohol and food, the button was still biting into his soft, flabby underbelly, and the waistband was pinching his fat love handles. Maybe it would be prudent to slow down just a bit. He’d like to stay in a 38 through Thanksgiving, if at all possible. But his t-shirt and flannel were long enough to obscure how snug his pants were getting. Even if the flannel didn’t quite button around Lance’s gut anymore and he had to leave it hanging open.

He finished off the third plate and nursed his beer, beginning to make actual conversation with Pidge. His eyes wandered at some point, and saw someone he wasn’t expecting to see at all: Keith’s ex, Lotor.

He was on the dance floor holding a drink and dancing mildly, surrounded by a few other people making conversation. He was as handsome as Lance remembered, smiling and laughing at the people around him, his white-blond hair glowing in the dim lighting.

Lance felt a surge of white-hot...fear? Anger? Jealousy? It was hard to place, maybe a mix of all three. All he knew is that it was a bad feeling. He remembered when Lotor and Keith first started going out freshman year. Lance was so pitifully jealous that he had eaten himself sick on an entire large pizza and a two-liter (it was a big feat for him, back then). Because Lotor was everything Lance wasn’t. He was elegant, charismatic, and wildly intelligent. And thin, his brain provided unhelpfully. He felt a wave of insecurity that he hadn’t felt in a while crash over him. Lotor and Keith had more in common than Lance and Keith, if nothing else.

It had felt like such a blow back when they started dating, like a real confirmation that Lance just wasn’t Keith’s type.

But then, Lotor had transferred schools after their first semester. According to Keith, there was already some friction in their relationship before that, and they decided on a mutual separation after just over two months together. 'We just weren't that compatible,' Keith had said. Then Lance got hopeful again, and the rest is history. Lance had almost completely forgotten that Lotor had even existed.

So what the fuck was Lotor doing here now?

Lance’s eyes frantically darted through the crowd of people dancing to find Keith. But he didn’t see him, nor Allura or Shiro, for that matter.

Pidge eventually noticed that Lance wasn’t listening to her anymore, and followed his gaze. “Oh,” was all she said when her eyes found what Lance was looking at.

“What is he doing here?” Lance said, trying to make his voice sound as casual as possible.

“Probably just visiting? He was on the football team, after all. I wouldn't worry about it, Lance,” Pidge said.

Lance scowled. "Where’s Keith?”

Just then, Keith, Shiro and Allura rounded a corner, Keith and Shiro with fresh drinks in their hands, and returned to the dance floor. If Keith had noticed Lotor was there, too, he didn’t act like it.

“If your concerned, go talk to him,” Pidge urged.

It would’ve been the reasonable thing to do. The adult thing to do. The sober thing to do. But Lance was maybe a little more intoxicated than he thought, because he started feeling annoyed at Keith, as if the very knowledge that he had dated other (thin) people before Lance personally offended him. Hell, maybe he wanted to come to this party because he knew Lotor was going to be here? How was Lance supposed to know? Maybe by asking him, his last shreds of sobriety begged him, but that was easy to ignore.

So he sniffed indignantly and, “No, he’s having fun. I don’t want to interrupt him. Who wants to do shots?”

Hunk cheered at that and they went to the liquor table. Pidge sighed but followed them reluctantly.

Lance wasn’t completely sure how many shots or drinks he had as the night went on, because things started to get a little blurry. He was pretty sure Hunk had challenged him to a drinking contest at some point, which he definitely accepted. Or was it an eating contest? Maybe both. He’d have to ask Pidge later who won.

When their group finally reunited, they had found seats and Hunk was raving about what great friends they were and how much he loved all of them. Lance was listening intently and agreeing vehemently. Shiro took a seat next to Hunk, and Hunk immediately directed his drunken platonic affections towards him.

A hand carded through Lance’s hair, and he lazily leaned back to see Keith gracefully perched on the armrest of his armchair, looking down at Lance bemusedly.

“Keith!” Lance said, grinning hugely at him.

“Hi there, babe. How’s your night been?”

Lance considered that. He felt pretty awesome right now. Stuffed to the brim with alcohol and food, feeling warm and happy. So he said, “Great!”

Keith smiled. He was just a little pink, probably a little tipsy, because Keith didn’t really like to get properly drunk. God, he looked beautiful. “I’m glad,” he said, “we missed you on the dance floor, though. You usually join me at some point.”

That’s true. Why hadn’t he? He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he’d usually jump in at some point so Keith could grind on him a little. It really was quite enjoyable. He was confused for a second, and a little sad at himself for missing out, but then he remembered all at once: Lotor.

Lance turned his head so Keith’s hand fell out of his hair. “Did you dance with Lotor?”

Keith knitted his eyebrows and looked concerned. “Of course not, Lance.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Very briefly, yeah. Just to say hi. He’s dating someone else now, too.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“He said he was just visiting. Hey, things are completely done between him and I, babe. Our relationship was over before it hardly even started. You know that. What’s this about?”

Conversation with the rest of the group seemed to carry on, ignorant of the conversation between Keith and Lance. Lance was thankful, because he was starting to feel a little silly.

“I dunno. Nothing, I guess,” Lance said and stifled a hiccup in his fist. He leaned towards the table to get his beer. But Keith’s hand stopped him, gently taking the bottle from Lance’s pudgy hand.

“It’s time to go, Lance,” Keith said gently. Lance pouted, and Keith added, “It’s past 3 AM.”

“Really?” Lance gaped, surprised. Looking past Keith, he saw Shiro with an arm wedged under Hunk’s shoulder, trying to coax him to his feet. He smiled a little. At least he wasn’t that drunk.

Keith had stood up, put Lance’s beer back on the table, and held out both his hands to Lance. Lance took them gratefully, and heaved his girth out of the armchair.

The world spun horribly around him and a wave of nausea made itself known. He felt like he was on a rocking ship ready to capsize. His legs felt like they were going to give out. Maybe he wasn’t faring much better than Hunk, after all.

“Easy, babe. Take it slow,” Keith cooed, supporting Lance’s weight by slinging Lance’s arm across his shoulder. Lance was grateful, because just walking to the car seemed like an impossible journey at this point.

“I’ll put $20 on Hunk hurling before we make it to the car,” Lance heard Pidge say, but it sounded like she was underwater.

“As long as he does it before the car and not in the car, I don’t care,” Allura said.

They started walking, and Lance actually started to feel a little more stable. The cool air outside was refreshing, and took the edge off some of the nausea. He glanced down at Keith and was surprised to see him looking a little out of breath. Oh. He supposed he had been leaning rather heavily on Keith. And he wasn’t exactly small anymore.

They loaded into Allura’s car. Lance struggled with the seatbelt for a minute before he locked it in place. He was thrilled to be seated again. He had closed his eyes when something was thrust in his face.

“Wazzit?” he said, plucking up the plastic grocery bag that Allura was handing him.

“If you get vomit in my car, I will end you,” Allura said seriously. Lance didn’t doubt her.

Hunk seemed to have fallen asleep already, and was snoring loudly, so Allura gave a bag to Shiro who was sitting next to him and looking pained at the prospect of having to hold a barf bag for Hunk.

The ride back was thankfully uneventful, and Keith and Lance got dropped off at their dorm building first.

Keith got out of the car first and held out a hand for Lance. Lance took it, and lumbered gracelessly out of the car. They shouted their thanks to Allura for DDing.

Keith moved to put his arm under Lance’s shoulder again, but Lance protested, “I’m okay, just hold my hand.”

Keith looked skeptical, but said, “Okay.”

It was slow going. Lance could indeed walk on his own, but he was being very careful not to trip over his feet. Had his feet always been this big? It felt like he was wearing clown shoes. Keith hovered close to him, holding his hand tight. He obviously didn’t quite trust Lance to walk on his own, but Lance hadn’t stumbled yet. He was doing some weaving, sure, but not stumbling.

Keith scanned his ID and they entered the building. They walked to the elevator, where a big white sign was posted, ‘Out of order’.

“No!” Lance proclaimed. He leaned his back against the wall and began sliding down it to sit. He was tired of walking, and there was no way in hell he was going to do stairs.

“No, c’mon, Lance, don’t sit!” Keith protested, grabbing him under the arms and trying to haul him to his feet, “I’ll never get you up again. It’s only two flights of stairs!”

Lance groaned loudly at that. That was two too many. He dead-weighted in Keith’s grasp and the angle was awkward, so Keith’s arms gave out, flopping Lance heavily on the ground. Keith huffed and knotted his eyebrows at him, looking a little irritated, but also like he was fighting amusement.

“Lance, we have to make it to the room. You can’t stay here all night.”

“I’ll stay here until the elevator is fixed.”

“C’mon, you can do two flights of stairs! I’ve seen you do it all the time at the academic buildings,” Keith protested.

“I’ve started taking elevators even there,” Lance said, languidly stretching his arms above his head. He felt his t-shirt lift and reveal the lower drooping curve of his stuffed belly that was resting in his lap.

“Really?” Keith said obviously surprised.

Realistically, Lance knew he could make it up two flights. It might be a challenge because of his current state of intoxication, but otherwise it shouldn't be too bad. He had started taking elevators whenever possible because it was just so fucking hot knowing that he couldn’t even be bothered to expend the calories to walk up a couple flights of stairs.

So Lance nodded, and slid his hand under his belly to make it wobble. “This is getting really heavy. Too heavy for you apparently, too.”

It was maybe a bit of a low blow, playing at Keith’s competitiveness like that. Keith grumbled unhappily, widened his stance, stuck his hands under Lance’s arms and heaved. Lance was impressed as he felt himself lift off the ground, so he reluctantly got his feet under himself. He stumbled into Keith’s chest once he was standing, but Keith didn’t budge under his weight.

“Wow,” Lance cooed, wrapping his arms around Keith’s neck, “you’re really strong.”

Keith rolled his eyes but smiled and said, “C’mon, drunky. We have to get to our room.”

Lance’s poor coordination made it a little tricky, but with Keith under one of his arms and this other hand on the railing, they made it up with little issue. Lance whined a little on the way, but Keith refused to stop, saying it would just be harder to get Lance to start going again.

When they got to the top, Lance was feeling a bit nauseous again because the movement of stairs jostled his stuffed belly too much. He was out of breath, and feeling far too hot. Keith, bless him, noticed and pulled Lance’s flannel off his shoulders, leaving him in just his t-shirt.

Keith kept a hand on Lance during the short walk to their room, and Lance immediately collapsed on his back on the bed. Keith sighed, but allowed it, and walked to their bathroom to get himself ready for bed. Lance had closed his eyes and begun to drift into sleep, when Keith returned and began to pull Lance’s shirt over his head.

“Ooh, I like where this is going,” Lance said, sitting up clumsily. It was harder than he thought it would be; his stuffed gut protruded so much that gathering enough momentum to sit up took a couple tries.

Keith snorted, “I’m just getting you in pajamas. We have to sleep.”

Keith had a fresh shirt for Lance in his hands, but Lance shook his head stubbornly and wrapped his hands around Keith’s narrow waist, trying to encourage him to sit on his lap.

“Lance,” Keith said warningly with a raised eyebrow.

Lance pouted, “Please?”

Keith sighed again, but sat in Lance’s lap with an affectionate smile. Lance noted that their days of sitting comfortably in one another’s laps might be numbered, because more and more of Lance’s lap was being occupied by his belly.

Once seated, Keith immediately shoved the shirt over Lance’s head and put his reluctant arms through the sleeves. Keith had picked one that was pretty new, and was big enough that Lance had plenty of room.

Lance placed his arms back around Keith’s narrow waist and looked up at him. “I love you,” Lance said.

Keith smiled lovingly at him and brushed Lance’s hair out of his face, as it got ruffled when Keith put his shirt on him. Keith cupped Lance’s soft cheek in his hand. “I love you, too.”

Suddenly, the thought was back, and Lance had to know, “Did you and Lotor ever say ‘I love you’?”

Keith looked surprised, then he sighed and looked a little perturbed that this was still on Lance’s mind and said, “No.”

“Did you have sex?”


Lance bit his lip. “Oh.”

Keith sighed and moved to get off Lance’s lap. Lance held him tighter and whined, resting his head on Keith’s chest. Keith sagged a little against him and began carding his hand through Lance’s hair.

“I don’t know what to tell you about this, about him. I don’t know if this is a ‘you’re drunk so you’re acting maybe a little silly’ thing, or if you’re actually feeling a little insecure about my past with him. We can talk about it in the morning, I guess,” Keith said.

Still flush against Keith’s strong chest and avoiding eye contact, Lance said, “He’s thin.” The words had tumbled out on their own accord, and surprised even Lance. Was that really what was bothering him about Lotor? He supposed maybe it was.

Keith stilled. “Babe, look at me.”



Lance curled tighter around Keith and shook his head. So Keith started talking anyways.

“Yes, Lotor is thin. You know how much I adore your body. But I’ve also told you that it’s not a deal breaker for me. If you ever want to lose weight, or start eating better, or exercising, whatever you want, I will support you with every fiber of my being. If you lose every pound you’ve gained, I’d still love you the same and I’d still think you’re impossibly handsome. You’ve indulged a, uh, pretty major kink of mine, but I’d still be attracted to you if you were thin.”

“You don’t-” Lance started, finally looking up at Keith with unsure eyes, “I’m not, like, too fat for you now, though, right?”

Keith barked a laugh, “No. Definitely not.”

“What would be too fat for you?”

Keith made a face. “Don’t use my preferences as a guide for what to do with your body, Lance. Whatever you want to do or however you end up, it will be perfectly okay with me. There’s no ‘too big’ or ‘too small’. You will always be perfect to me.”

“Okay, but what if-”


But what if,” Lance said more forcefully, before following it up with a quiet, “What if I like being fat?”

“That would be great and I would agree that you look ravishing fat and I would congratulate you for liking your body.”

“I mean, what if I liked a kinky way,” Lance said, maintaining tentative eye contact, and seeing shock flash in Keith’s eyes.

Then Keith smiled hugely at him, and hesitated before saying, “I’d say that’s really great, but I’d also like to hear you say that sober so I can be sure you actually mean it.”

“Gaining weight has been hot as hell,” Lance bluntly stated, and Keith’s cheeks flushed.

“We need to go to bed, we can talk about this in the morning,” Keith insisted, “I’m getting up. Take your jeans off.”

But Lance held him tight and Keith hardly struggled. “You take my jeans off.”

Lance expected him to protest again, but Keith gulped and reached down. Lance’s belly obscured the button and zipper completely while sitting, so Keith had to reach underneath the overhang of fat and try to unbutton them by feel.

“Let me help,” Lance said, and lifted his gut with a hand to give Keith an actual view of the problematic button.

Keith shuddered, eyes fixed on the scene Lance was creating for him. His agile fingers slipped the button out of its hole and pulled down the zipper. Lance dropped his hand, letting his heavy gut fall onto Keith’s hand.

Keith hissed an intake of breath, “Fuck, Lance.” He removed his hand from Lance’s belly and used both hands to push Lance’s shoulders so he fell back. Keith stood to shimmy Lance’s pants down his hips, which proved to be a little tricky for Keith because Lance just laid there instead of lifting his hips to help. Keith had to manhandle Lance's swollen body out of the constricting jeans, struggling around his hips and wobbly thighs. When Lance was finally in his boxers, Keith went and turned out the light and got under the blankets. And closed his eyes.

“Wait, no,” Lance whined, pushing gently against Keith’s shoulder. Keith opened one eye to gaze at him dryly.

“Go to sleep, Lance.”

Lance squirmed unhappily under the blankets and gave a dramatic sigh. He grabbed at one of Keith’s hands.

“Rub my belly, at least,” Lance said with a huff.

Keith shifted and gave Lance’s soft jaw a kiss, and rested his head on Lance’s chest, while his hand gently massaged the tightness out of Lance’s stuffed belly.

As Lance drifted to sleep, he realized that he really had been silly for getting upset by Lotor. Maybe he was finally sobering up a bit, maybe he had needed that bit of extra reassurance from Keith, or maybe it was just anxiety over discovering and admitting his own feelings with his newly discovered kink. Whatever the real cause was, he knew that he wasn’t upset at all anymore, and he knew that he had Keith’s unconditional love.

The room was dark, but his eyes had adjusted enough that while he sleepily scanned the room, he could see a small stuffed bear sitting on his desk, the bear with big brown eyes clutching a heart that read ‘Be Mine’ that Keith had gotten him on Valentine’s Day. It seemed silly, but somehow that bear had felt like a real token of Keith’s affections. Lance wasn’t sure if he would’ve confessed to Keith that day about his own feelings if it weren’t for that little stuffed bear.

He glanced down at Keith, who had already fallen asleep, and placed a kiss into his dark hair. Lance smiled contentedly and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Lance draped himself across Keith’s shoulders from behind. His belly bumped into Keith’s back. “Merry Christmas,” he said jovially.

“It’s not Christmas yet, but hi,” Keith said, focusing on shaping dough to the stencils he found online.

“Merry Christmas Eve, then, if you’re going to be particular. Whatcha making?”

“Gingerbread. I found the recipe online. I thought, maybe we could-”

Lance gasped, understanding why the pieces were cut into odd shapes, “Are we going to make a gingerbread house?!”

Keith smiled. “That’s the idea.”

Lance had wanted to spend Christmas, of all places, in Keith’s hometown. Keith had weakly protested, but Lance insisted that he wanted to see where Keith had grown up. “We spent Thanksgiving with my dad’s side, and we’re seeing my mom’s side for spring break. I’d really like to spend Christmas at your dad’s place,” Lance had said. And Keith had somewhat reluctantly agreed.

It was small and old-fashioned, as most homes in small towns are. But Lance seemed enchanted by it, calling it cozy and homey.

Now that Lance had decorated the place for Christmas, Keith could see that maybe he had a point. Keith had already sold some of the furniture and decorations to help put himself through college, although there was still enough that it functioned fine as a house, even if it looked a little sparse. But now string lights hung from the windows, a wreath hung from the front door, and a modest-sized tree was packed with soft white lights that glistened off the (admittedly cheap, but still pretty) round, glass ball ornaments placed delicately and lovingly by Lance. Keith had bought some firewood, too, and with the tree on and a nice fire going, he had to admit that the place had a certain charm that he hadn’t felt since his dad passed.

“Can I help?” Lance offered, detaching himself from Keith and taking a step back.

“Actually, yeah, you can start making some of the frosting if you want. I took out the ingredients already, the recipe should be on the counter- holy shit,” Keith said, turning around for the first time since Lance entered the room.

Lance, obviously feigning complete innocence from the puzzled expression on his face, was wearing one of the smallest things Keith had ever seen him in. It was a ridiculous red Christmas sweater with reindeer prancing on the sides and a big santa face across the chest. But it was so small that it hardly reached past Lance’s chest, leaving his entire flabby belly on display.

Said belly was obviously larger lately. Between the time of year and Keith and Lance’s combined fervor for Lance’s increasing weight, he was bigger than ever. His lower belly proudly hung over the waistband of his sweatpants, and was littered with stretch marks etching from his belly button. His sides were two thick, heavy rolls stacked on one another, and they morphed into even more rolls when he was sitting or leaning to one side. He had plenty of stretch marks there, too. Between his bulging belly and the rolls of fat on his sides, his circumference was large, especially when he was sitting down and all the extra fat he carried in his middle splayed in his lap. His gut and and love handles formed a big ring of blubber that was so soft to the touch and was Keith’s favorite spot to squeeze and shake his belly.

The bottom of the sweater (that was, in theory, supposed to reach the bottom of Lance’s torso, good god) was bunched and snug against the narrowest part of Lance’s torso; a couple inches below his chubby chest, before his belly billowed out. Keith could see how Lance’s chubby pecs were perfectly visible because of how they strained the sweater. Lance’s fat arms that lacked any sort of definition were absolutely crammed in the tight sleeves. The sleeves themselves weren’t completely rotated the right way, and it was obvious that Lance hadn’t tried to fix it because they were simply too tight to move. The santa face on the sweater was stretched and distorted, looking more like santa was scowling rather than smiling.

“What’s wrong, Keith?” Lance asked, losing hold of his ‘innocent’ look as a shit eating grin made its way across his face.

“You look...fucking incredible. Where the hell did you get this thing?” Keith said reverently, closing the space between them to caress the bloated, swollen, fat curve of his underbelly.

“It’s from last Christmas. I guess eighty pounds will make this happen,” Lance said, letting out a falsely remorseful sigh as he tugged on the hem as if he could pull it down more. The sweater didn’t budge but the seams creaked ominously, and the movement made his belly bounce and jiggle.

“Eighty…” Keith said, hefting the weight of Lance’s gut in his hands. Lance relaxed under his touch.

“That’s what I figure, anyways. I was probably around 170 or 175 last Christmas, and there’s no way I weigh less than 255 now. Probably more like 260. Which means…” Lance trailed off, looking at Keith expectantly, as if Keith knew where he was going with this thought.

And Keith definitely did. “Which means you’ve put on 100 pounds from your high school weight of 160. Provided your estimations are right. And, given the evidence, I’d be hard-pressed to disagree.”

“Hmm. I have pictures of last Christmas, if you wanna see,” Lance offered with a heady gaze.

“Do you really? Fuck, yes please,” Keith said eagerly.

Lance made a show of grabbing his phone and leaning his elbows on the counter, making his belly pooch and hang. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he searched from the picture, making his belly sway. Keith was sweating.

“Ah, here it is,” Lance said, handing his phone to Keith.

And there Lance was, looking just a touch softer than he had been at the beginning of freshman year. There was just the suggestion of a belly as Lance smiled with his dad happily in the picture. There was no doubt that the sweater fit him perfectly fine then.

Keith looked back up, away from the image of a Lance who didn’t struggle to buckle his seatbelt and could still go for jogs if he had ever wanted, to the image in front of him: an overfed Lance who had moved into size 40 jeans at the beginning of December, who hadn’t walked up a single flight of stairs since the elevator in their building broke for a few days in November, who got red faced tying his shoes because his belly made such a mound in front of him that it was getting hard for him to reach across it.

Hell, the past week and a half that they’d been on break, Lance hardly moved besides going from the bed at night to the couch during the day. Keith was at his beck and call, happily making him whatever food he wanted and bringing it to him, so his fat boyfriend didn’t have to lift a finger. It was reminiscent of the Cuba trip, but even better because Lance did absolutely nothing during the day, and Keith got to feed him instead of just stealing glances.

“You always look beautiful. But, uh, I have to say, you look so hot I can barely think straight,” Keith said.

Lance beamed at that, and pulled Keith in for a brief kiss before pulling away.

“Okay, where’s the recipe? I’ll make the frosting,” Lance said.

“Huh?” Keith said dazedly, barely listening, hands grasping the rolls of fat.

Lance made a show of rolling his eyes and shooed Keith’s hands away from his gut. “C’mon, I wanna make the gingerbread house,” he said.

Keith bit his lip. He’d like nothing more than for Lance to bend him over the counter and fuck him, feeling that belly bounce against him, but Lance seemed unpersuaded to abandon the gingerbread house for sex.

Keith sullenly retrieved the recipe for Lance who just laughed at his half-hearted dejection.

Keith realized he was working far slower now that Lance was in the kitchen. He wasn’t even saying much, but just his presence was horribly distracting.

Lance dutifully read the recipe and took out some measuring cups. He stood as close to the counter as his belly would allow, which wasn’t very close at all. He seemed to realize this, survey his own belly briefly, before lifting it from underneath with a hand and letting it flop heavily onto the counter. It wobbled for a moment before settling. The extra support for Lance’s gut made his blubbery sides form more rolls.

Keith exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and it came out in a breathy, quiet whine. He thought maybe Lance hadn’t noticed, but he turned over his shoulder and gave Keith an appraising look and a raised eyebrow.

Keith swallowed heavily and tried to focus on rolling out the last bit of dough and measuring it to the stencils. He learned the only real way for him to be efficient was to turn away from Lance entirely. He finished up, put them in the oven, and turned to face Lance.

Lance had finished making the frosting and left it in the bowl on the counter. He had sat on one of the barstools and opened the bags of M&Ms, gumdrops and sweet tarts and was happily munching away.

“I see you found the decorations,” Keith said dryly as he put ingredients away.

Lance just smiled cheekily at him, and dunked a couple gumdrops in the frosting he made before popping them into his mouth.

“Go easy. I don’t want to hear it if you don’t have enough left to decorate the house,” Keith chastised with an amused smile.

“Distract me with something else, then,” Lance said, rising to his feet again and draping his arms around Keith’s shoulders. He got as close as he could before his belly mushed into Keith’s abdomen.

Keith cupped Lance’s chubby cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. His mouth was soft and he tasted sweet.

But then Lance pulled away and said, “I can’t believe I forgot! I have a gift for you. For both of us, really. That I want you to open now.”

Keith snorted. “You’ve never been particularly patient. What is it?”

“You can open one gift on Christmas Eve, anyways,” Lance rationalized with a smile as he retrieved a rectangular box from underneath the tree. Keith enjoyed the view of Lance bending over, sweatpants straining over his widening hips and ass. Keith felt he might already have a guess as to what the gift was.

“Open it,” Lance said perkily, handing the box to Keith.

Keith tore the wrapping paper off, and sure enough, was greeted with the sight of a digital scale.

“Look, batteries included and everything. We don’t have to awkwardly sneak in and out of the locker room anymore. The gym’s too far anyways,” Lance said.

Keith admonished him affectionately, “I think I spoil you too much. You’re definitely getting lazy.”

“You spoil me just the right amount,” Lance said with a smile as Keith opened the box and took the scale out, flipped the switch to turn it on and placed it on the ground.

“Hop on,” Keith said, and Lance did, in the middle of the kitchen. There was no way either of them were going to wait.

Green zeros appeared on the display as it was calculating, then it reported: 263.

“Wow,” Keith said, caressing Lance’s bulging love handles from behind.

“Wow,” Lance agreed. He stepped off the scale and kissed Keith, with more heat and passion than last time.

Keith pulled away and reached around Lance to grab a generous handful of his ass. “We only have twenty minutes before the gingerbread house will be ready.”

Lance smirked. “Sounds like plenty of time to me.”